


in the middle of all this fuzz and static

by fastforwardty



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: (not rlly tho), Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Dan Howell Has an Existential Crisis, Existential Angst, Existential Crisis, Filmmaker Phil Lester, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Lawyer Dan Howell, M/M, PBB, Phandom Big Bang, Phandom Big Bang 2018, Strangers to Lovers, TW: drinking, Things get angsty, University, and where do i put trigger warnings, but it's all so so good in the end i promise, i love that that's a tag, i started writing this in SEPTEMBER, i'm trying to make this more Clickable yk, it happens sometimes yk, they're both big dumb boys, tryna get me that sweet sweet numerical validation, tw: vomit mentions, what else do i include in these tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 09:18:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 52,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16658408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fastforwardty/pseuds/fastforwardty
Summary: hello?i've called to apologizefor the things i have saidand the things that i will;i've called to apologizefor all the ways in whichwe hurt each other.often,we humans cannot helpthe ways in whichwe make each other ache,but i at least hope that -in the middle of all this fuzzand static -it is possibleto make each otherheal.-or, the one where dan never really wanted to be a lawyer, and phil has a camera and a smile that could heal anything.





	1. Chapter 1

Dan wished he wasn’t such a people-pleaser.

He stared down at the textbook in front of him, reading the words but getting nothing out of them. It all looked like nonsense — every single letter and symbol just a smudge of black in a sea of white. Dan couldn’t remember how many times he’d read and re-read the same sentence over and over again in an attempt to make it stick. Things were  _ supposed _ to stick. He was supposed to remember all of these words and be able to spit them back out just as easily.

It’s not like he even wanted to anyway. Nothing in Dan’s life was ever done through his own volition. Getting the best grades in his classes because it was what his parents wanted. Spending all of his time doing things that were supposed to look good on job and university applications because it was what his parents wanted. Going to law school because it was what his parents wanted. His entire life was just doing whatever they decided was the best thing for him to do.. Why go to parties when he was volunteering for some community project the next day? Why go to birthday parties when he could be studying for a test at the end of the week? Why be an actual person when he could just be the best imitation of a textbook without all the wood pulp and cardboard and ink? 

All his parents wanted for him was to be the smartest, most well-rounded son they ever could’ve raised. He’d become a lawyer, settle down with a nice girl, and have the perfect nuclear family they never got for themselves. Every ounce of psychology that Dan had retained told him that his parents only put him through this because they never had this kind of success themselves, just like it told him how little pressure they would’ve put on his younger sibling if Dan had one. He wondered how parents could put their kids through hell just to live out some crazed idealistic fantasies of success.

But at least it would make his parents happy.

His happiness was never really a priority anyway.

So, Dan focused on his studies to get him through the day, the same way he had every day for god knows how long. He did his best to ignore the way he heard people talking about him behind his back, the bruises he came home to after repressing the hard hands that shoved him against walls, the funny lonely feeling that always sat at the bottom of his throat but never quite bubbled to fruition.

He took all the words that occupied his stomach rather than his head and crumbled them up, smaller and smaller until the only sound they made was static.

It’s how he graduated at the top of his class. His parents loved him for that, loved their “brilliant boy.” Hearing their voices in his head made him want to gag. But he did like doing something to make them proud; it was better than what he knew the alternative could be.

He has a mock trial exam tomorrow. The first exam grade for the semester. He probably should’ve prepared for that. It wasn’t like Dan hadn’t been trying to all day, but the words just wouldn’t stick anymore. The same words he’d already read a thousand times before and was now reading a thousand times again. 

Dan pushed the book away from himself and sat his elbows in the new space on the desk, face falling into his palms. He rubbed circles over his eyes and spread his fingers, looking through them to the book’s open face. He needed to study, but studying was the furthest thing from what Dan could bring himself to do.

Instead, Dan pulled out a packet of copy paper — scribbling the date at the top of the page — and he found himself  _ writing _ , of all things in the world. He was always good at writing papers in school, but this kind of writing was new. This writing wasn’t earning him high marks or praises; no one but him would ever see a single word. The idea spurred Dan on more, pen quickly returning to the page and running wild across it.

The funny lonely feeling began climbing its way out, and faster than he could come up with the words in his head were they appearing on the paper in front of him, slapped down in his messy handwriting like it always belonged there. 

The last he checked the time, it was 10:54pm. Pages and pages found themselves stacked haphazardly on one corner of his desk while he sat and wrote away at the other. He scratched whole pages out and rewrote them again, putting both face down into the pile over and over — some sort of mantra he didn’t know he had memorized. Some words were true, some weren’t, but absolutely none of them were doing any good flooding the space inside his skull.

The words all fell out, and now the funny lonely feeling was pouring down his cheeks in streams. Dan was glad he wrote in pencil. He cracked his knuckles and checked the time through wavy eyes. 1:13am. He didn’t know he had all those words in him. 

Dan looked down at the pages and the graphite smudged all over the side of his hand and wondered where all those words came from. He picked up his jagged stack and tapped it down onto the desk, straightening the edges into smooth lines. 

His wrist ached. So did his chest, but it was a different kind of ache.

Actually, it was more of an emptiness. Dan felt deflated, almost relieved even.

He decided he wasn’t going to class tomorrow. Or any day after that. He left the stack of papers on his desk and kneeled down in front of his bed, retrieving his suitcase from underneath.  _ Is this a good idea? _ Dan thought to himself. He looked over his shoulder to the papers sitting on his desk:  _ Of course it is.  _ He took a deep breath.  _ Better than ever coming here in the first place. _

He stopped suddenly, looking down at the suitcase now on his bed, dirty clothes spilling out around the edges —  _ What am I  _ doing _?  _ Dan’s parents made themselves known in his head as he sunk down to the floor, knees drawn into his chest to make himself small. 

This was crazy. Dan knew it was crazy. What was he even trying to do?

Why was he doing all of this now, not even one  _ semester _ into a three-year degree? He looked up at his desk; the answers to all of these questions suddenly whizzing around in his head were probably  _ right there _ , just an arm’s length away.  _ I’m not going to read them _ .

Dan didn’t want to think about all the words that had just fallen out of him, or the suitcase on his bed full of his laundry, or the exam he had tomorrow. He put in a pin in the first two and decided he had to deal with the latter. He’d already come this far, made his parents  _ so proud _ . What was he going to do? 

Keep making his parents proud because he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out what their disappointment felt like on his skin.

Dan stood from the floor, cracking his knuckles again. His body became a machine, moving at a constant rate as he took the clothes out of his suitcase and moved them into the hamper by his wardrobe, as he closed the suitcase and slid it back into its spot under the bed, as he re-straightened the stack of papers on his desk and tucked them into an empty drawer.

He soon submerged himself in darkness, tucking himself into bed. His room felt too hot, but the way his body trembled could easily fool him into thinking otherwise.

No dropping out. Not now, probably not ever.

The static rang in his ears as he slept. 


	2. ch. 2

He failed the exam.

The first failing grade Dan had ever had in his life.

He couldn’t help but be proud of himself for once. Proud  _ for  _ himself. Not because he’d made his parents proud, not because he’d made them happy; in fact, it would the the exact opposite if he continued this failing streak (which he definitely intended on doing).

Proud for himself because, for once in his life, he was actually doing something for _himself._ Dan actually _wanted_ this, wanted to feel his parents’ seething eyes on him as they borrowed their disappointments into his skin. He wanted to chip off all the marble of the pedestal they placed him on, looking them in the their empty faces and say, _now what do you have?_

The aggression was new, and Dan loved every bit of it. The feeling of wanting to spit in someone’s face was foreign and freeing.

Dan’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He smirked at his predictions why.

**From: Professor Nigel Lester**

**Subject: Mock Trial Grade**

**_Mr. Howell,_ **

Dan didn’t need to read the rest of the email to know every word of it. Even a fool could gather that his professor was “shocked and disappointed” by Dan’s “recent performance in the past mock trial”, and that he “would like to organize a private meeting after school” in his room to “discuss the grade and possible options for improvement”, and that he would be available to Dan if he “feels the need to ask for help in any way.” He held down the notification and read the preview lines, checking off every phrase he already knew was there and searching for a date and time. 

**_I’d like to meet with you in my lecture room tomorrow, October 19th, at 4pm, after the lecture. Please reply to this message if you can come or are unable to do so and would like to reschedule this meeting for another day. Best wishes, Professor Lester._ **

Dan rolled his eyes. He was going to go anyway, just to watch the blood pour out of his professor’s face as he states simply:  _ I just don’t care anymore _ . Professor Lester had always praised Dan in class, about how he must’ve had some experience with theatre as he was such a skilled speaker, about how he seemed to know the textbooks even better than some of the other law professors. For others, those kinds of high praises would make them feel warm and appreciated. But Dan couldn’t help but find something disingenuous in them. He wanted to get things wrong and be told so.

He was quick to swipe a reply across the screen with his thumb:  **_Sounds good, I’ll be there. Thanks, Dan._ **

The date in the email was a stark reminder: just a few more months until the end of the semester. What would he do then? It was only his first year of university, and it wasn’t even halfway over yet. Dan figured he still had time to change his major if he really wanted to, but did he even want to do that?

Dan really hated not having all the answers. Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure if that were actually true. He shoved his phone back into his pocket and went back to eating his dinner.  _ Tomorrow _ , he thought.  _ I can do that. _

He returned to his room, his eyes immediately finding his desk, the outline of those papers still clear on the desktop despite being hidden beneath it. He still didn’t want to look at them, even after a night’s sleep to clear his head. Maybe he never would look at them. Maybe they’d be the lone occupant of that desk drawer until he moved out. Maybe he’d keep them around out of occupation, tucked into some random physical corner of his life and filed away in his head as something he wouldn’t mind forgetting about.

The weight of tomorrow found itself pressing heavily on Dan’s chest as he got ready for bed. He couldn’t tell where all the water on his face was coming from as he showered.

It sat even heavier on him as he laid down to go to sleep. Now, he could feel it in his stomach and his toes and the tips of his fingers. The schedule he had so easily memorized before classes even started was a loss on the tip of his tongue as he tried to imagine how tomorrow would go. Did he have an 8am in the morning, or was his first class on Thursdays a 10am? 

Did he even want to go to class at all?

It would be his first absence, not that he really cared that much anymore anyway.

Dan needed more time.

He sat down at his desk and pulled out more copy paper. He dated the first page and let the words out again. And the weight fell out of him, down his cheeks and through his fingers. He checked the time. 2:47am.

He decided he wasn’t going to class tomorrow.

And he slept until he found himself in the in-between. Dan tried to go back to the dream, a really nice one, but he couldn’t sleep through the midday light that sliced through the blinds on the window.  _ More time to think _ , the sun was telling him to look on the bright side. His hand found his phone where it sat unplugged on the desk, the screen refusing to show the time as he clicked at the buttons. He groaned and scrambled for the cord somewhere between his desk and bed, finally finding it and connecting the two together. Waiting the five minutes to his phone to come back to life made everything else stagnate.

Then, he heard that familiar ring of a resurrected phone and rushed to see the screen. 3:12pm. Had he really slept for that long?

Dan broke that time down. It usually took him around 15 minutes to get ready, then another 20 minutes to from his residence hall all the way across campus to the law building if he walked.

He figured walking would make the time go faster and stood to get ready.

Stepping outside his building, Dan remembered just how cold it was in the middle of October — walking should warm him up.

He liked the sound of the leaves crunching as he walked and slowed his pace, taking moments just to look at the colors all over campus. He wondered how anyone could ever hate the color orange.

Dan saw the law building in front of him and checked the time. 3:51pm. Nine minutes to spare felt good. The front doors felt heavier than usual as he pushed into them.

The empty corridor was new to him as he remembered that class was in session. He stood still for a minute, hearing a voice echo from down the hall.  _ Mock session _ , he thought to himself, turning to walk in the other direction to Professor Lester’s lecture room. He checked the time again. 3:54. Classes for the day ended in three minutes. This was when he’d normally be in Professor Lester’s lecture room anyway, talking about things he only cared about for other people.

Only two minutes left now. Two minutes before a conversation he couldn’t for the life of him predict the direction of.

From the first day of class, Dan knew Professor Lester liked him. He could tell from the annotations made on his papers, even more so with the way he spoke to Dan in class. He remembered hearing upperclassmen say that it was hard to become a favorite with Professor Lester. 

Dan wondered what he did to be so lucky.

Then the logic kicked in and reminded him that luck doesn’t exist and he was lucky it doesn’t, so he wondered how he could forget just how much of a people-pleaser he was.

In fairness, Professor Lester was probably a better male role model to have than his actual father anyway. Dan didn’t want to think about his parents right now.

The bell finally rang and Dan stood, feeling the air of students rushing past him as the doors to the lecture room burst open. His palms suddenly felt sticky; he wiped them on the thighs of his black jeans and hoped they didn’t leave patches. Soon, the corridor and the lecture room were empty of everyone except for him and whatever professors were left to their paperwork in their rooms. He breathed in through his nose, his shoulders heaving up once, twice, before he entered the room. The soles of his shoes echoed in the unusually quiet room. He closed the door behind him. Professor Lester looked up from where he still stood at his usual position behind the podium.

“Daniel, I’m glad you could make it,” he actually sounded like the words he said. “You can have a seat at one of the chairs in front of my desk, and I’ll be over in a moment.”

Dan liked the way Professor Lester spoke, now that he wasn’t telling Dan about law. Everything about his voice was kind, genuine. Even punctuating his sentences with a soft smile, like an invitation to sit down and share the world with him. Dan didn’t realize that kind of warmth from people existed.

“You can make a cuppa if you’d like,” he said, punctuated with another smile. Dan also had never really taken the time to consider just how  _ northern _ Professor Lester was; he was endeared by it.

And now that he was thinking about something other than school, maybe Dan could use some tea. “I will, thank you,” he tried to add that same lightness of Professor Lester’s voice to the ends of his words, but it didn’t sound the same.

An electric kettle and a tea tin sat on a little table in the corner behind the door. From Dan’s usual seat on the front row close — but not  _ too  _ close — to the door, he had a perfect view of it. When he was finished with his independent work, he sometimes thought about asking if he could make a cup for himself. There were extra mugs over there, after all, and Professor Lester always used the same one. No one else ever asked for tea, nor was it ever mentioned that he could.

Perhaps that was another perk of being a favorite.

Dan hadn’t had tea since he was back home. He didn’t have a an electric kettle in his room, and he wasn’t in the business of actually leaving his room to go make tea in his floor’s kitchen.

He opened the lid of the tea tin and looked through all the multi-colored bags. Chamomile sounded nice. He turned on the kettle and picked up a mug, wrapping the string of the bag around the top of the handle. The doorknob rattled behind him, and in came a walking rack of camera equipment. A large messenger bag was hanging off both his shoulders, a collapsed tripod and softbox stand in each hand. Dan wondered how he got the door open, black frames sliding down his nose and strands of black hair falling over his face. The kettle clicked off, and he redirected his attention to the water, pouring it directly onto the tea bag and watching the water swirl into a new yellow color.

He heard the sound of bags being dropped on the ground behind him and resisted the urge to turn around; he checked the time on his phone. 4:03pm.

“Phil!” Professor Lester chirped. “How was class today?”

“Pretty good,” the new voice said. “Professor Varner liked the short I made about the girl with the dolls.” Dan continued to resist the urge to turn around, picking up a spoon and mashing the tea bag against the walls of the mug, watching the tea go darker.

“Did he? I’m glad,” Professor Lester’s voice sounded closer behind Dan. “Alright, Daniel, I’m ready whenever you are.” 

Now Dan had to turn around. He caught a glimpse of the student who’d come in, hair now tidied away on his forehead and glasses resting in their proper place in front of his eyes. Dan could’ve sworn that the boy was looking at him. 

Professor Lester sensed the hesitance in Dan’s body. “This is my son, Phil,” he started. “He’s majoring in filmmaking, or whatever it’s called. Not really my area,” he chuckled.

“Nice to meet you,” Phil said, waving before he crouched down to one of his bags on the floor. He pulled out a pair of headphones and pulled them over his head. Dan took note of his voice — low and not quite as Northern-sounding as his dad’s — and wondered where the accent had faded off to.

“He’s a bit of a shy one,” Professor Lester said. Dan’s eyes looked between him and Phil. “I’m letting him use this room for his next project, but he always has those silly headphones on, so he won’t be any trouble,” he paused, “if you’re worried about that at all.”

Dan looked back to Phil, who was now fumbling with a camera, trying to fit some external piece to it. He seemed completely oblivious to everything outside of his equipment, so Dan let himself drop his guard a little. He picked up the mug behind him and walked over to Professor Lester’s desk, settling down in one of the chairs at the front. He held onto the warmth in his hands.

“Of course, you know why I asked you to meet me,” Professor Lester began, “so I’m not going to sit here and rehash that old thing out to you.”

Dan raised the mug to his lips and nodded.

“Really, I just want to know if anything’s been going on? Your grades are all astounding — enough so that this exam isn’t hurting you as much as it is some of your peers,” Dan thought he heard Phil snicker behind him, “so this drop definitely wasn’t expected.”

Professor Lester paused, and Dan hoped he didn’t expect a response.

“I can never know for certain what goes on in any student of mine’s life, and I never want to assume, but this was quite alarming to me.” Dan had never heard that kind of concern in someone’s voice while speaking to him. “Above all else, I  _ always _ want to make sure that everyone in this classroom is alright. I’d check up on the entire student body if I had that much time and energy to spare.”

Dan’s lips drew into a tight line, stopping the tea he’d be steadily sipping on.

“I worry about each of you like I would my own,” he nodded his head pointedly in Phil’s direction, “so, if there’s anything, and I mean  _ anything _ , you think I should know, please know that I’m always here and willing to listen, and that I will do the best I can to help.”

There were two options: lie through his teeth, or spill everything out into the floor in front of him. Dan sat the mug down on the desk, the string still wrapped tightly around the top of the handle. Professor Lester sat quietly, looking at Dan with eyes he didn’t have to see to know that they cared.

His parents had never asked him anything like this.

Before Dan could even consider his options, the bottom fell out.


	3. ch. 3

Dan couldn’t remember all the words he’d just poured out in front of his  _ law  _ professor, of all the faculty members on campus he could be talking to. He also couldn’t remember how Professor Lester ended up in the chair next to him, leaning forward and letting Dan sob into his yellow collared shirt, strong hands offering comforts up and down Dan’s back. 

He felt pathetic, but he also felt relieved. Almost even wanted to laugh at how easily he turned his back on his own plans for apathy.

Then he remembered his professor’s son was somewhere in the room, probably wondering what in the world was wrong with this ridiculous law student.

Dan thought he would feel embarrassed, being so broken in front of what had to be an upperclassmen — someone  _ leagues  _ above where Dan ever would be — but he just didn’t care at all anymore. Let him look, let him stare, let him shake his head pitifully and be sympathetic and offer Dan empty pretentious condolences.

For once in his life, Dan didn’t care what other people thought of him.

And it was the lightest he’d ever felt in his life.

Dan sniffled the last of his sobs. Professor Lester didn’t remove his hands until Dan began to move away, which Dan didn’t really want to do. In any other context, Dan would probably run as fast as he could from the building as possible and make a report, but Professor Lester wasn’t like that. He just… felt like a dad, more so than Dan’s  _ actual _ father ever did. Dan found himself quite enjoying the feeling of being physically cared for, of actually feeling appreciated for his personhood and not just his academics.

He liked the new feeling of his feelings actually being taken into consideration.

Dan looked around the room, Phil nowhere to be seen. He probably stepped out whenever Dan fell apart. Dan felt better thinking about that, his shame not being shared with a stranger. 

He looked to Professor Lester and his kind eyes.

“What should I do?” Dan’s quiet broken voice asked.

Professor Lester took a deep breath, leaning back in his chair. The movement drew Dan’s eyes to the mug on the desk, knocked over facing the edge and spilled all over the floor. The tea bag dangled from the string, still wrapped around the handle. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Professor Lester spoke first.

“In all honesty, I’m not too sure,” he sighed, leaning back forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “You’re obviously very skilled at what we do in my classes, and I think you’d make a wonderful lawyer, but it’s clear to me that that’s the furthest from what you want to do. And that’s without even  _ knowing  _ what you want to do. I can tell you for a fact that law isn’t for you.” Dan felt his heart sink into his stomach.

“Then, what  _ is  _ for me?”

“I’ll tell you what I told my oldest when he went to school and what I told Phil when he started here. Only you can determine what you want your life to be. Everything you are, it’s not dictated by anyone  _ but  _ yourself. If you want to study medicine, that’s what you should pursue no matter what. If you want to study language, design, astrophysics — hell, even  _ beekeeping _ — that’s all up to  _ you _ . You don’t own anything to anyone. Not your parents or your teachers, not even the world or the universe or whatever gods you may or may not believe in. You aren’t obligated to serve others’ wants or desires for you. Humans, when it comes right down to it, are self-serving creatures. So, if you’re going to serve  _ anything _ , at least let it be something you actually care about.”

Dan smiled. “So, why are you teaching law?”

Professor Lester chuckled and answered simply: “My first degree is in philosophy with a concentration in ethics, and I always knew I wanted to teach. I went back to study law because I saw ethics in it and liked the challenge of justice.”

“That’s actually the coolest reason I’ve ever heard for anyone actually wanting to study law,” Dan’s cheeks felt dry as he smiled.

“Law’s definitely a bit of a doozy, that’s for sure,” he agreed, “but I actually find it interesting, which is the whole point. You have to have some kind of drive for what you do, whether it be passion or just plain curiosity. And you certainly can’t spend your entire life just thinking about everything before you do it. Sometimes, you really do have to just  _ do _ it,” Professor Lester smirked, and Dan smiled.

“I know my parents would’ve killed me if I went into something like film,” Dan glanced back to the camera equipment. “It’s cool that you let Phil do it.”

“My wife and I made sure that our kids knew from a very young age that we would always support them, no matter what they wanted to do. His older brother actually dabbled in culinary school for a little while before he went into journalism. I can’t for the life of me what exactly it is that he does, but I know  _ he  _ cares about it, which is all that matters to me.”

“That’s really good,” Dan said. “I’m glad he has a good support system, I’m glad you’re supportive _of_ him.”

Professor Lester smiled and looked down at his watch, eyebrows raised. “Oh dear, seems I’m running a bit late for a meeting.” Dan checked the time on his phone. 5:37pm. Had he really been here for that long?

“You’re welcome to stay in here for as long as you like. I usually have Phil lock the door for me when he’s around, and judging by all those bags he brought, he won’t be going anywhere any time soon,” Professor Lester grinned, standing and walking around to the back of his desk. “And you can always stay after class as often as you’d like, just to get away from it all for a while.”

Dan grinned a thank you and looked down at the spilled tea, his face dropping slightly.

“And don’t worry about that, either. I’ll just have Phil clean it, he won’t mind.”

Dan stood. “It’s really no trouble for me to clean it! It’s my mess, I’ll gladly-”

“Daniel,” Professor Lester interrupted, “you don’t always have to clean up every mess you make,” he paused again, a playful glint in his eye. “And I quite enjoy making Phil do things to annoy him.  _ Phil! _ ”

A moment later, the doorknob rattled again, and in came Phil, headphones down around his neck. “Yeah?”

“I’m running late for a meeting, would you mind cleaning up this spill over here and locking my door for the night?”

“What do I get out of it?”

“My unwavering love and support?” Professor Lester offered. Dan wanted to laugh.

“Well I get that anyway.”

“I’ll save you a donut on Friday when Dr. Brooks brings them for the staff.”

“Pink frosted with sprinkles?” Phil asked, giddy like a child.

“If you remind me!”

“Deal.”

With that, Professor Lester waved a quick goodbye, threw his keys on his desk, and made his way out the door, leaving Dan and Phil alone to their own devices.

And how was Dan supposed to act around someone he’d only met two hours prior, hadn’t said a word to, and whose first impression of Dan was a mental breakdown into his father’s open arms?

Awkwardly, Dan supposed.

He mumbled an apology to Phil as he walked over, who was really unfairly just as kind as his father was.

“It’s no problem, I don’t mind it,” he said, turning the mug upright.

“I still feel bad,” Dan admitted.

“You don’t have to feel bad for being a normal person.”

Dan really hated how nice and strangely profound they both were. Out of anybody else’s mouth, those words would’ve bounced right off of Dan’s chest and fallen into Dan’s imaginary bag of pretensions.

But from them, those words sounded like gold. And felt like a much-needed punch in the gut.

“Sorry for like, kicking you out earlier. Your dad said you were using this room for one of your projects,” Dan said. He picked up the mug and threw the tea bag in the bin next to the desk.

“It’s alright, I was actually just testing out some audio leveling on the camera’s microphone,” Phil walked over to the little table in the corner and returned with a roll of paper towels. Dan’s eyes widened.

“Wait, so could you-”

“Bits and pieces, yeah,” Phil smiled, “when one of you got particularly loud. But when you first started, well, crying, I took my headphones off. I would’ve come in and turned it off, but I didn’t wanna like, disturb you or anything, so I just left it and walked around the hallways for a bit.”

Dan felt his face turning warm and red, stammering out, “Oh my god I’m so sorry I feel so bad about messing your stuff up you really could’ve come in if you needed to I’m-”

“Hey,” Phil put a hand on Dan’s shoulder, stilling his frantic body. “It’s fine, I promise. I can always redo it another time, it doesn’t take very long.”

“And you heard all that-”

“I can delete it all if you want.”

Dan wasn’t sure if he wanted Phil to do that.

He was actually kind of curious to hear what all he said.

But it was probably better that he didn’t.

Dan nodded to Phil, pretending the deletion of his breakdown could act as some form of catharsis. He really was grateful for people like this to be out there somewhere in the world. “Thanks.”

He wanted to get out of Phil’s way, but he didn’t quite want to go back to his room. This was the first time and place he actually felt like somebody other than the valedictorian. So, Dan chose instead to take a seat next to Phil’s camera equipment; it was around where he usually sat in class anyway. 

Without looking up, Phil said, “Well if you’re gonna be around for a while, would you mind helping me work out the white balance settings in here?”

Dan furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t know the first thing about filmmaking  _ or _ photography.”

“I just need a skin tone to balance the room,” Phil said, as if it should’ve been obvious.

“Oh,” Dan actually felt like an idiot for the first time in his life. “Duh, sorry,” he scratched the back of his neck.

Phil hummed a laugh. “It’s alright. I’m almost done with this, just gimme a sec.”

Dan still felt bad for the mess he made, even more so for the fact that he wasn’t the one cleaning it up. Phil threw away the paper towels and made his way over to Dan, immediately grabbing the camera on the floor and clicking through it — most likely deleting the footage of Dan’s breakdown — before turning it off. He dug into one of his bags and pulled out another lens along with another battery, swapping both out on the camera. He stood as he clicked the lens into place, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“Alright, follow me,” Phil said, walking to the set of stairs between the two sections of desks. Dan watched from behind as Phil bounded, two at a time, up the steps, all the way to the top. Dan jogged up as Phil poised the camera in front of his face and clicked it on.

“Why are you recording this?” Dan laughed.

“Testing scene stuff,” Phil’s voice was muffled from behind the body of the camera.

Dan shrugged and shook his head as he chuckled, slowing his pace on the last steps until he met Phil at the top, who followed Dan’s movements even as they became level with each other.

“Awesome,” Phil said, lowering the camera back down to his chest. “Now go back down.”

“Why?”

“I wanna see if it works a different way.”

“Alright then.”

Dan ran back down the stairs, turning at the bottom to see Phil with the camera in front of his face again. He brought it back to his chest and made his own way down the stairs.

“Okay, now can we try it with me right in front of you, like the camera’s moving on a track with you?”

“I guess.”

Phil began walking back, sideways up the stairs, and Dan followed, laughing at Phil every time he went back and forth between checking his footing behind him and the viewfinder in front of him. They met again at the top.

“Again going down?” Dan asked.

“Last one, I promise,” Phil smiled.

Dan rolled his eyes with a grin and stepped to the side, letting Phil in front of him on the stepped, and they repeated the same process on the way down. He couldn’t help but laugh at Phil as he tried to juggle between stepping in the right stop and maintaining the right angle.

They stopped at the bottom, Phil immediately looking through the footage.

“How red do my eyes show up on that?” Dan wanted to peer over Phil’s shoulder and see for himself, but he wasn’t too sure how Phil would feel about that.

“Not that much, wanna see?” Phil looked over his shoulder back at Dan, who remained a step above him. Dan leaned forward over Phil’s shoulder and watched as he clicked through the videos, noticing how yellow the lights made his skin look.

“Why do I look like a Simpson?” Dan exclaimed. He laughed a little too loudly, but he was grateful for the chance to loosen up the tightness all over his body. 

“Incandescent bulbs,” Phil answered.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“They glow yellow.”

“Your mum glows yellow,” Dan spat back. He didn’t know it was possible for him to say something so stupid.

“Obviously, because she’s an angel,” Phil said. “I think the lighting’s better at the front of the room. Would you mind sitting in one of the desks on the front row?”

“Sure.”

Dan walked over to his usual seat, Phil following behind as he fiddled with the settings on the camera. He squatted in front of where Dan said and held the camera up.

“Say ‘Phil Lester, director of the year’!”

“Do you really want me to say that?” Dan couldn’t believe this guy.

“What?” Phil feigned defense, lowering the camera down to his chin. He perched his elbows on the desk. “I like the encouragement.”

“I’m not saying that,” Dan couldn’t hide his stupid grin.

Phil frowned. “Why not?”

“Because… I’ve never even  _ seen _ any of your films,” Dan humphed, crossing his arms and sticking his nose up.

“You can literally change that whenever you want,” Phil reasoned. “They’re all on YouTube.”

“And yet I’ve never even heard of them,” Dan stuck his nose up higher.

“As if you actually go looking around on YouTube for short films made by kids at your uni.”

“Fair enough,” Dan brought his head back down and perched his elbows on the desk, flush with Phil’s. He lowered himself obnoxiously close to the lens. “I still wanna watch them.”

“What, like now?”

Dan shrugged. “Not really.”

“Alright then,” Phil stood from where he sat and clicked through the video. “Now go sit in one of the chairs at my dad’s desk, doesn’t matter which one.”

“Alright.”

Professor Lester’s chair was the only one that spun, and Dan had to admit he was a sucker for a spinny chair. He sat down and couldn’t help the newfound juvenile energy that escaped him, spinning around as fast as he could and letting himself get as dizzy as possible. The only thing that stopped him was Phil’s hand on the back of the chair. Dan craned his neck back to look up, face met by none other than a camera lens. His head kept spinning.

“Did you get what you wanted?” Dan asked, amused.

“Plenty,” Phil lowered the camera and looked back to Dan, whose head was still leaned on the back of the chair. “What time is it?”

Dan scrunched his face at Phil. “Time for you to get a watch.”

“Time for you to find some newer material,” Phil threw his arm, making Dan spin again.

“Bully!” Dan called as Phil walked away from the desk, slowing down to a stop.

“It’s not bullying if it’s the truth!” Phil called back.

“That’s not how it works!”

“I’m older and therefore wiser,” Phil went back to his bags and began packing his equipment.

“That’s not how it works, either,” Dan walked over to Phil.

“And how do you supposed it does work, sir?”

“Hell if I know, but definitely not like that.”

“How are you even studying to become a lawyer?”

“It’s not like  _ I  _ had any say in the matter,” Dan defended, the playful tone in his voice suddenly gone.

“Fair enough,” Phil said after a moment, then, “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“You never even told me what time it was.”

Dan checked the time. “6:24.”

“AKA time for me to go home and work on all the other stuff I have due by the end of the week.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah,” Phil sighed. “See you around or something, I guess.”

“I might be in here sometimes after school. Professor Le- your dad said I could stay whenever I wanted,” Dan said.

“He likes you,” Phil smirked.

“Hey, I’ll take whatever supportive father figures I can get, thank you very much.”

“Whatever makes you happy, man,” Phil teased. “But I dunno if my dad’s into skinny uni guys. Or guys.”

“No, but maybe your mum is,” Dan really needed to stop with the bad jokes.

“If they’re both cool with it, I guess,” Phil shrugged. “I’m never gonna call you ‘Dad’, though.”

“Only a letter off from my name anyway.”

“Speaking of which,” Phil paused, hands stilling over his equipment as he turned his attention to Dan, “I don’t think I ever got your name.”

“Well there aren’t very many options in the a-letter-off-from-dad category,” Dan said with a chuckle. He let his guard slack down a little, enjoying the warm feeling that began coating his skin. 

“Oh I hope to god your parents didn’t name you Dab.”

“And what if they did?” Dan made an exaggerated frown.

“Then I’m judging them and everyone who enabled them,” Phil said, returning his gaze to his bags on the floor and readjusting the contents.

“Meanie,” Dan huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You already know my name’s Phil,” he stood, pulling his bags onto his shoulders.

“And now  _ you  _ know my name’s Dan,” he followed suit.

“Thanks for the free labor, Dan.”

“Thanks for the labor exploitation, Phil.”

“Now  _ there’s  _ the lawyer talk,” Phil grinned proudly.

“Shut up,” Dan laughed.

“If only I could be so kind.”


	4. ch. 4

Dan felt like an idiot.

A big, fat, flaming idiot as he closed his door behind him, leaning back against it.

Why did he always have to say dumb things around cool people? Phil was  _ leagues  _ above him as a human being, and here Dan was, actually trying to even  _ pretend _ he could compete.

Then again, it was the first conversation Dan ever had with someone who wasn’t just asking to copy his homework. It was a little rejuvenating, this newfound friendship. At least it gave him something to look forward to at the end of the day.

He collapsed down on his bed with a huff, throwing his arms over his eyes.

What if Phil really just saw Dan as this little puppy dog of a freshman? Dan most certainly did  _ not  _ want to be that. A lost little puppy dog who needed help finding its way home, some kid who just needed to feel like he belonged somewhere. In all honesty, he didn’t really think he minded if it meant actually having somebody he could at least pretend was his friend. All the other students in his law classes were just downright insufferable to be around; Dan wondered how any of them could ever become lawyers.

He shooed the thought away, figuring it wasn’t very becoming of him to be so bitter. His mother’s voice found its way into his head as it reminded Dan: “Nobody likes a high horse.” 

Dan was tired of hearing her voice in his head, always telling him own to be a person. Why couldn’t he have a go at figuring that out for himself?

He shook himself out of it a final time and tried to focus on the actual good things in his life. He still had a C in his law classes, which he could easily bring up by the end of the semester to keep his parents off his case about whatever happened to their “perfect child”. 

Professor Lester actually treated him like a  _ person _ and not just a class rank, which is way more than any other adults in his life had ever done.

And he had Phil. Who Dan might even be so bold to call his friend. Even if it was all a lie, it was still a comfort to pretend.

Just a few more hours to Friday. Midterms were over, which meant nothing to study for over the short break, and he certainly didn’t plan on going home.

But he could probably hang out with Phil after school in the lecture room, or even just have another talk with Professor Lester about things other than law. Dan realized how much he loved doing things that had nothing to do with academics, and he reveled in the feeling. 

Tomorrow would be long, but tomorrow would be worth it.

Dan didn’t really grasp just how true his words would be until his alarm went off the next morning. At least his only class today was at 1:30. But he’d have to find a way to pass the time until then.

Or he could just go hang out in Professor Lester’s room. Dan doubted he would mind.

He got dressed quickly, remembering to wear layers for the breeze. Plenty of time to make some imaginary music videos in his head and forget about all the other stuff going on outside of him.

Dan wondered how the leaves had become so much more red than orange in just a day. He let himself into the songs as he walked, having a little fun on the surprisingly empty quad. He felt something pop against his back and looked over his shoulder, removing one of his earbuds.

“I’ve been calling your name for like five minutes!” Phil exclaimed, running briskly to catch up to Dan and walk alongside him, a camera around his neck and a bag over one shoulder but glasses absent on the bridge of his nose. “What are you listening to?”

_ My own embarrassment _ , Dan thought. “Muse’s new album,” he answered instead. “Where are your glasses?”

“On my actual eyeballs,” Phil said, pointing to them. “And I haven’t gotten a chance to listen to all of the new album yet.”

“This is actually the first chance I’d had to fully listen to it since it came out,” Dan said, moving the earbud back to his ear. Both were quiet for a moment before Phil reached across Dan’s chest and plucked it back out again.

“You were supposed to offer me an ear,” Phil said in the same obvious tone he’d used yesterday. Dan wonder how often he’d get to hear it.

“Says who?” Dan quirked his eyebrows.

“The friendship gods, of course.”

“What, is it a test of my loyalty or something?”

“See, now you’re getting it!”

“Shut up,” Dan knocked into Phil’s shoulder with his own. “Can we even walk and listen to it at the same time?”

“If we try  _ really _ hard,” Phil grinned.

Dan couldn’t bring himself to refuse, offering Phil the earbud he’d initially removed.

“Ooh, I like this one,” Phil said as they walked. “What is it?”

Dan clicked his phone on. “‘Unnatural Selection.’”

“Cool.”

They walked in silence, side by side the rest of the way to the law building. Phil took the initiative to hold the door open for the two of them, letting his earbud be pulled out as Dan entered. The door closed with a particularly loud bang behind him, making Dan jump. He giggled a shush through his smile as Phil grit his teeth.

“Not used to being in this building,” Phil whispered.

“Clearly, Mr. filmmaker Phil,” Dan teased.

“Hey, it’s Mr. AmazingPhil to you,” Phil played along.

“Oh, is that where you put all your little films?”

“You plan on watching them?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Dan shrugged.

“I’ll be sure to thank you in my speech when I accept all my awards for best filmmaker to ever exist,” Phil quipped back.

“Whatever you say, Mr. AmazingPhil.”

Dan’s phone buzzed in his hand, sending a ping into his ear. 

**From: Professor Nigel Lester**

**Subject: Lecture cancelled**

**_Hello all! Apologies for the sudden notice, but today’s 1:30 lecture has been cancelled. I hope you all have a wonderful break! -Professor Lester_ **

“Is your dad okay?” Dan asked, stopping in the corridor.

“Yeah, why?” 

“He just sent an email out that today’s lecture is cancelled.”

“Hm, weird,” Phil said casually, continuing to walk.

Dan eyed Phil suspiciously. “You know something, Lester.” 

Phil stopped. “Okay,  _ maybe  _ I know he went home early for the break.”

“And he’s just  _ now  _ sending out the email?”

“In fairness, he’s pretty forgetful sometimes.”

“So why are you still here if he’s back at home?”

“Need to work out some tech stuff in his lecture room,” Phil grabbed the strap of his bag and shook it slightly.

“Again?”

“Well, I couldn’t exactly work out the acoustics and sound levels yesterday.”

“Sorry,” Dan said quietly.

“You don’t need to be,” Phil replied. “I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

They stopped at the locked doors, Phil digging into his pockets for his dad’s keys. He finally found them and unlocked the door, again holding it open for Dan.

The room felt big and empty in a new way; Dan wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it. The door closed behind him.

“Alright, so all I’m doing today is figuring out sound stuff in here, which hopefully won’t take very long,” Phil walked over to the same spot next to Dan’s usual desk and sat his bag down, rifling through it for his headphones and the external mic. “Hopefully I won’t need a boom, because honestly I just hate having to lug those things around,” he said more to himself than anyone else, but Dan still listened anyway. He clicked the microphone into place and looked up at Dan. “Say something.”

“Like what?” Dan suddenly felt sheepish.

“Whatever you want, I guess. Anything on your mind?”

“Way too much, if you ask me.”

“Then let some of it out,” Phil offered.

Dan took a breath. “Um, I really fucking hate studying law.”

“Keep going,” Phil said, watching what Dan could only assume were the audio readings on the camera screen.

“I hate studying law, and I really want to drop out but I don’t know what the fuck else I’d do here because I really do want to actually stay in university and get a degree in something but anything that doesn’t require ‘high knowledge and skills’ is gonna disappoint my parents and I wish I didn’t care so much what they thought of me or whether they approved of me but God I care  _ so much  _ about their validation that it honestly makes me want to vomit and I don’t really have anyone to yell at about it because I isolated myself for the sake of my education just to make them happy and it’s fucking  _ exhausting! _ ” Dan wondered when his shy admittance became so rushing and bold. The sound echoed in the room, making him feel small in comparison.

“You can yell at me about it,” Phil said, voice soft and considerate.

“Thanks,” Dan said, exasperated. “It’s just a lot, y’know?”

“Not really,” Phil admitted. “But I can try my best.”

“Thanks,” he said again, but he meant it more this time. “Did you get what you needed?”

“I think so, let me listen to it,” Phil clicked the button to stop the recording and pulled his headphones up to play it back. The room was quiet for a moment before he answered, “Perfect.”

“Is that all you needed in here?” Dan asked. He didn’t want to stop seeing Phil here, where the space belonged to just the two of them.

“Pre-production, yeah,” he began, “but now that I know everything I wanted works, I can actually start filming.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

Another quiet moment.

“Would you wanna help with it?” Phil asked. Dan had to admit, he was a bit taken aback.

“Me? Out of all people?” Confused wasn’t even the half of it.

“You could probably use something to take your mind off of all that other stuff going on up there,” Phil nodded to Dan’s head.

“What would I even do?”

“I’ll find something for you, promise,” Phil grinned.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The rest of the time they spent in the lecture room was silent, aside from the occasional shutter click as Phil went through the light settings, using Dan as a tester.

“So, what are you doing after this?” Phil asked into his chest, looking through the photos. The question caught Dan off-guard.

“Nothing. This was my only class for the day, why?”

“Would you wanna come over to my flat? I’m having some friends over later to talk about the project, and I figure it’d be good for you to meet them if you wanted to help,” Phil looked up at Dan.

“Sure,” Dan hoped he successfully managed to hide his excitement at actually being asked to hang out with people.

“Then let’s go,” Phil began backing his stuff back up.

“Right now?”

“Don’t see why not. I’m done in here for the day,” Phil stood. pulling his bag over his shoulder.

“Oh. Alright.”

Phil locked the door once they were outside the lecture room. Dan felt this a strange tug of giddiness in his stomach. Here he was, after spending so much of his life denying himself the simple pleasure of friends just to satisfy his parents bizarre need for him to be successful, actually putting school to the side and meeting people who made him feel like an actual person — like his personality could actually be more than the things he crammed into his brain.

Dan followed Phil as they walked across campus, past Dan’s dorm building, and out into the student parking lot. Phil led them to a little hatchback; Dan peered into the back window, the trunk loaded with random gear. He wondered how none of it had been stolen, knowing university kids and their innate desire to not be broke.

He might have to take advantage of this new friend with a car. He heard the locks click.

“I’m only like ten minutes away, but traffic’s always hell around now, so I hope your ready for a nice long sit at every red light we get,” he opened the driver’s side door, “which will probably be all of them.”

Dan didn’t think he minded that too much.

“Only if I get to curate the music,” Dan felt the need to show off to Phil, impress him. He opened the passenger door.

“If you can find the AUX cord,” Phil challenged as he climbed in, closing his side and starting the ignition.

Dan found it easier than Phil led him to believe, quickly pulling up his best playlist and flashing Phil a quick grin, Phil’s eyes already elsewhere as he began to pull out. Dan didn’t mind that, either.


	5. ch. 5

Phil’s apartment was about what Dan expected an apartment lived in by a university student to look like, but it was still immensely better than his little dorm room. Stray junk filled the corners, blankets and pillows thrown over the old sofa where it sat in the center of the lounge. A breakfast bar separated the kitchen from the lounge, the bathroom on the other side of the flat and two bedrooms on the side closest to the front door. In fairness, this was really a pretty nice flat for a third-year university student.

“They should be around in a couple minutes,” Phil said, throwing his things down on the sofa. He walked into the kitchen, “D’you want anything? I’m gonna have a coffee.”

“It’s like three in the afternoon,” Dan said. He checked the time, just to be sure. 2:53pm.

“You wouldn’t like me without coffee,” Phil assured. Dan wondered what  _ that  _ Phil was like.

“I’m good, thanks.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Dan stood awkwardly in the little space between the door and the lounge, unsure of where to put himself in the room. He couldn’t remember the last time he was in a living space that wasn’t at least partially his own.

“You know you can sit down, right?” Phil offered, his back to Dan as he made his coffee. Dan could hear the coy smile in his voice.

“Yeah,” he replied, feeling even more out of place. “Just not really used to being in other people’s houses.”

Phil stiffened and turned over his shoulder to Dan. “Have you never been to a party?” Dan shook his head. “Sleepover?” And again. “Group  _ bible study _ ?” One more. “ _ Never? _ ”

“Wasn’t ever really on my radar,” he admitted. Dan wondered how pathetic he sounded.

“God, your parents must  _ suck _ ,” Phil said, coffee now finished and in his hand as he walked over to the sofa. He moved the bag he’d tossed down into the floor and filled its space.

“You’re telling me,” Dan finally moved onto the sofa, sitting opposite Phil. A buzz came from the door. Phil stood, placing his mug down on the side table, and walked to it.

“They’ll be up in a sec,” he said after a moment. Dan suddenly felt very,  _ very _ nervous. Phil, he could handle; they’d gotten to know each other at least a little bit. Phil’s  _ friends _ , however, were an entirely new playing field. 

“They’re cool, I promise,” Phil must’ve been able to sense Dan’s unease. “They’ll like you,” he offered a small grin. Dan grinned back, feeling a little better. There was a knock at the door, opening to reveal three different faces Dan would have to acquaint himself with. He assumed they were all in Phil’s year, too, that they at least had some semblance of having their lives together.

“This is Leo,” Phil put his hand on one of the boys’ shoulder. Dan looked to the boy’s face, covered in freckles and strands of orange hair falling over his forehead. “Miles,” Phil said, and another waved, lips pulled into a tight grin in the middle of brown scruff. “And Sam,” the last one flashed a bright smile, cheeks bumping his glasses up slightly before letting them fall back down. “And this is Dan,” now Phil was speaking to his friends, gesturing to Dan.

Miles’ eyes widened at Phil, “Wait, the guy you’ve been telling us ab-”

“Yesterday, yeah,” Phil interrupted, looking back to Dan. “I was talking to them yesterday about you ‘cause I thought you might like to help,” he explained. Miles furrowed his eyebrows at Phil before dropping the question he still held in his mouth.

“Alright then,” Leo ran a hand through his hair, “let’s get started.”

Dan didn’t really say much, just ping-ponged his head back and forth between the other four as they all bounced different ideas off of each other. Sometimes he would catch Phil glancing at him, as if he were waiting for Dan to throw out something of his own, but Dan remained quiet. He really just enjoyed watching them buzz with each other.

From what he could gather, they were making a short film about a group of students trapped in a classroom, and one of them was secretly some sort of shape-shifting creature that had killed their professor and was slowly killing off other students in the room, and they all had to figure out which of them was it before it killed them all. Maybe Dan was missing something, but it still sounded pretty cool. Right now, they were are trying to figure out how to get all the deaths to work.

“So it’s kinda like that game where if you wink at somebody, you have to ‘die’ at some point?” Dan finally spoke. “And no one notices other people winking, and you can’t die immediately after they do it either, so only the person winking and the person being winked at know who it is, and the person being winked at can’t say anything.”

“Wait, that might work,” Sam said, eyes lighting up. He pulled a notebook from his bag and quickly began to scribble something down. “So like, the creature could have some sort of mind control or telepathic thing where the people forget that they’re going to die.”

“That definitely works!” Phil exclaimed. “We could even include the voice in their heads in the audio and distort it so no one watching can figure it out easily.”

“Oh fuck yeah!” Leo shouted. The other three boys quickly began spitting out even more ideas than before, Sam scrawling them into his notebook just as fast. Phil kept himself out of their chaos for a small moment, giving Dan a small appreciative look before diving back into their brainstorm.

Dan had never been more proud of himself.

He let himself sit back now, just enjoying the way the four boys fed off of each other, inspired each other. It must’ve been nice to have friends like that. Dan thought of all the proof of his academic achievements in his room, the way his parents told him they were more worth it than any “friends” that would only try to bring him down — he wanted to throw every single certificate and medal and award in the garbage. All that time he could’ve spent doing what people his age did, and every second of it was spent studying.

“Dan?” a voice said, pulling him back down.

“Hm?”

“See you later, mate,” one of the three said. Dan couldn’t remember what his name was.

“Yeah, see ya,” Dan gave a quick wave as they left. Phil closed the door behind them.

“You okay?” Phil asked.

“Yeah,” Dan nodded quickly.

“They kept saying your name and you weren’t answering.”

“Did they?” Dan felt shame wash over him.

“Yeah,” Phil replied quietly. He sat back with Dan on the sofa. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Dan thought for a moment. “Not really.”

“You sure?”

“I think so.”

“Alright.”


	6. ch. 6

Phil’s phone number was the first Dan had even gotten from someone he wasn’t related to, working for, doing a group project with, or being taught by. Even so, he was still a little bit worried to use it. The very last thing he wanted was to seem annoying.

But that certainly didn’t stop Phil from texting him first as soon as he got back to his flat after dropping Dan off back on campus.

**_-Movie day tomorrow?_ **

Dan nearly forgot to answer just out of sheer joy for finally having  _ plans  _ with people.

**_-with the guys? sounds fun_ **

**_-Nope, just us! They’ve got some other stuff going on tomorrow_ **

Dan honestly preferred that over being around so many people at once. And it would be the first Saturday of the semester Dan spent outside of his dorm.

**_-what time?_ **

**_-I’ll pick you up around noon?_ **

**_-noon is good :)_ **

**_-Good :)_ **

Dan wasn’t sure he was going to be able to get any sleep tonight. Not with all this excitement whirring around in his head. He didn’t really get what was making him so nervous about it; he was just going to watch movies with somebody. Perhaps it was just the excitement of actually having somebody to watch movies  _ with _ . He really hoped he didn’t do anything stupid.

He woke up to the sound of banging against his door.

“Dan I’ve been knocking for like forty years and my hand’s getting tired!” Phil’s voice called from behind the door. “We have a whole day of movies I wanna make you watch ahead of us!”

Dan shuffled out of bed, not considering that the state of himself when he woke up, opening the door and suddenly feeling the chill of the air on his chest.

“What- bloody  _ shit  _ it’s cold,” Dan hissed, standing before Phil.

“Well you’re the one not wearing clothes,” Phil mused, eyeing Dan down and back up again.

“Oh fuck,” Dan looked down and hoped he wasn’t flushed red. “Sorry.”

“You should be more sorry for making me trek all the way over here to come wake you up,” Phil said, not even slightly bothered by Dan.

“How did you even find my dorm hall anyway?” Dan asked. He tried to hide himself more behind the door.

“I have my ways,” Phil said slyly.

“Stalker,” Dan joked.

“Definitely watching you through your window every night,” Phil played along. 

Dan rolled his eyes and laughed. “Stay there and I’ll be out in like five minutes, yeah?”

He closed the door and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on his wardrobe, cringing at the absolute mess his of curls his hair was. No time to try and deal with it this morning. Dan rushed to throw on some clothes, doing his best to tame his hair in the mirror. He pulled his phone from its charger and saw the dozen text notifications and two missed calls he slept through.  _ Oops. _

Phil was leaning against the wall outside Dan’s door when he opened it again.

“Your hair’s curly,” Phil mused, reaching to pull at one of the ringlets. “Like a pigtail.”

“ _ Please _ don’t refer to my hair as pigtails,” Dan made clear. “I imagine it’s offensive to pigs.”

“Then what do  _ you  _ call it?” Phil pulled at another curl, and Dan let him.

“Hobbit hair,” Dan said simply, shrugging.

“Dan something-something, straight from the Shire. How could I have been so blind?” he mocked.

“My last name’s Howell, and I’ve still got to brush my teeth,” Dan said, raising the toothbrush and toothpaste in his hand.

“Just bring it with you,  _ Howell _ ,” Phil said, coming off the wall. “We’re losing precious movie time here.”

“You just want me to brush my teeth at your flat?” Dan gave Phil a confused look.

“Yeah, I don’t care,” Phil answered, “and we can grab something on the way over since I don’t think you’ve eaten yet.”

“Yeah,” Dan shrugged, following Phil out of the building, huffing at the cold air.

Phil let Dan play his own music in the car again, which Dan absolutely loved. It was the one time Dan actually  _ wanted _ to show off, eager to hear Phil’s praises of his taste and basking in the validation of Phil knowing every song. Phil made Dan call in for pizza at a place near his flat, pulling up to the curb and leaving the car running as he ran in to pick up the order. Their fingers brushed as he passed off the order to Dan, who held the boxes under his jittering legs.

Once in Phil’s apartment, Dan was quick to slip off to the bathroom and brush his teeth. When he returned to the lounge, Phil had already pulled up some movie Dan had never seen before, food splayed out on the coffee table before the sofa.

“What all are we watching today,  _ Mr. AmazingPhil _ ,” Dan teased, falling into his new usual side of the sofa.

“As many of my favorite films as we can,” Phil leaned forward from his own side, tearing at the crust for a slice of pizza.

“Why?” Dan was a bit more hesitant to dig in, no matter how much his stomach reminded him that he should.

“Because I want you to see them,” Phil said through a mouthful.

“Why?”

“Just because,” Phil swallowed the bite down, a bit more sheepish. That was new from Phil, and it nearly threw Dan for a loop. Dan appreciated being trusted even this much, though he knew he probably wouldn’t get any further explanation out of it, but he wondered why Phil was so protective over them. In the short time they’d known each other, Phil had opened himself up quite a lot to Dan — allowed himself to become comfortable, Dan figured — but this was more in the original Phil style Dan was first introduced to, the kind who was quiet and not quite sure of himself.

Dan thought back to Professor Lester, to the advice he’d given Dan, and reminded himself of it:  _ Less thinking, more doing. _ He leaned forward, letting himself pull off a slice of pizza. “Well let’s get started then.”

This silence between them felt more comfortable as they enveloped themselves in the films, having no obligation to keep up any conversation and not feeling awkward for it. Dan had gotten so used to being alone in the quiet, he never realized how nice it could be to share it. Even just this little act of sharing a meal was a pleasant and welcome comfort.

“How have you  _ never  _ seen it before?” Phil exclaimed between the last and next films. They had already watched  _ The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou  _ and were now on course for  _ Kill Bill _ , Phil eagerly eyeing Dan for his reactions.

“Phil, I’ve told you, I’ve hardly watched  _ anything _ !” Dan replied with an amused chuckle.

“That’s _ literally _ insane.”

“I  _ literally  _ know,” Dan mocked, earning a push on his knee with Phil’s sock-covered foot.

“I refuse to believe that. I think you got abducted by aliens and they erased your memories of all these good movies,” Phil decided.

“What, just so you could show them to me?” Dan teased, returning the push on Phil’s knee.

“Obviously,” Phil feigned modesty, “because the first time you have to watch them  _ has  _ to be perfect.”

“Whatever you say,” Dan rolled his eyes but didn’t try to hide his amused grin.

Dan had never even heard of  _ Moulin Rouge _ before, unlike the previous movies Phil had already coerced him into loving. This one in particular put a heavy feeling on his tongue, and he wished he actually felt comfortable crying around Phil, but there was still some funny thing tugging in all back and making his head hurt with the pressure of waiting to be let out. He looked over to see tears waiting at Phil’s eyes a few times, so Dan knew he was still safe here, but some odd fear lurked underneath him and kept it all back.

But he was trying to get better at opening up to people, at allowing himself and his emotions the space to exist. He tried to like the feeling, get used to it. Dan so easily found himself tired of having to fear so much of his insides, and he tried to get comfortable with not having to feel like that anymore. Phil was trying to give Dan the space to feel everything he needed to feel; it certainly wasn’t a luxury he could afford with his parents.

Dan still wondered why Phil had picked this film in particular to watch last for the night,

“Can we watch movies that  _ won’t  _ make me want to sob uncontrollably tomorrow?” Dan feared his tone was a little too light.

“ _ Tomorrow? _ ” Phil asked, quirking an eyebrow. “You wanna do this again?”

“Yeah…” Dan felt embarrassed for assuming, and even more so for potentially ruining it. “If you wanted to.”  _ Please, _ Dan pleaded in his head, _ please let me have this. Let me have this happiness. _

“Of course,” Phil said, almost immediately, “‘cause now I’ve got to show you  _ all _ the good movies.”


	7. ch. 7

Having people to actually hang out way decidedly  _ way  _ more fun than studying, Dan discovered. He found himself sacrificing more and more of his study time in favor of any moment he could spend with Phil, and every single one of them was worth it.

The two met outside Professor Lester’s classroom at the end of the school day. Dan didn’t know what plans Phil has in store for the day— _ or _ the weekend, for that matter—but he didn’t really mind that too much, just as long as it was time spent with Phil. They walked together out of the building.

“Have you ever been to a party?” Phil asked suddenly.

Dan’s eyes widened, less at the question and more at the thought of Phil actually  _ going _ to parties. Hadn’t they talked about this before? 

Phil took note of the silence. “It’s cool if you haven’t, but Miles just invited a bunch of people round his place and said I could bring you,” Phil stopped walking. “If you wanted.”

“I’ve- I’ve never really,” Dan’s voice wandered; he rubbed at his upper arm and looked away.

“You don’t have to go. I’m not gonna like,  _ make _ you or anything,” Phil reassured.

“The only drink I’ve ever had is a flute of champagne on New Year’s that my family gave me,” the admission made Dan wince.

“Oh,” Phil’s voice was surprised. “You don’t have to drink.”

“I’ll feel like I’ll have to.”

“You really don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to.”

“I really don’t think I want to.”

“Okay,” Phil said, walking again. “But don’t hold me accountable for anything I send you tonight.” 

Dan wondered what that was supposed to mean, but the thought was lost as Phil began talking about movies. He found it fun to see somebody so enthused about something and let it distract him.

Tonight, Dan’s dorm felt uncomfortably quiet. A small part of him wished he wasn’t such a wimp, that he would’ve just sucked it up and gone with Phil. That was who he’d rather be spending his time with anyway, but the whole party scene turned him off. Not quite ready for that yet.

Phil’s first text of the night came at 8:56pm.

**_-I’ll keep you updated on all the stupid stuff everyone does_ **

**_-And maybe all the stupid stuff I do_ **

**_-No promises lol_ **

Dan chuckled at his screen, typing out their familiar “whatever you say” and hitting send.

The night wore on, Phil proving himself to be growing more and more tipsy until a point where Dan wasn’t sure if he could even call it that anymore. He sent the same attempt at a corrected typo four times in a row, each one a new variation of wrong.

**_-Wsh yuo weree here_ **

The sentiments remained, and Dan’s heart felt warm. Then, a moment later:

**_-You cuold keeeep m yhiar back whil I vomit_ **

Dan rolled his eyes, watching in amusement as the text bubbles disappeared and reappeared, Phil poorly recounting everything Dan missed. Someone vomiting in a houseplant, him getting hit in the eye with a golf ball during beer pong when he wasn’t even playing—things Dan assumed were just typical party stuff. He soon found himself staying up all night, unsure of when a new update would find its way through. The giddy anticipation was nice, and it actually kind of made Dan regret not taking up the offer. At least he would’ve been with Phil.

But this was close enough.

They could go to parties together later. When Dan was more comfortable with being around people outside of himself. That easy feeling came naturally with Phil, but it was others Dan was more worried about.

He’d get there eventually.

His eyes grew heavier and heavier; it had been at least an hour since Phil’s last update, and Dan was beginning to doze. The vibration of his phone as it rang through his mattress woke him up.

**_-Goodniiiiiiiiiiight xoxoxoxoxo_ **

Dan easily grew curious of what this kind of Phil was like in real life, especially with the way he texted. Maybe he wouldn’t mind taking care of a drunken Phil, just as long as he didn’t have to  _ actually _ hold Phil’s hair back while he vomited. Although, maybe that wouldn’t have been so bad either.

Phil certainly knew how to wake Dan up, the same vibration of his phone jolting him out of a dream. It left Dan’s memory quickly, but the grin and thought of Phil remained. Something about drunk and dopey grins, pitiful laughs over a toilet bowl and his fingers pushing back black fringe.

**_-Think you can meet me for coffee in a bit? I’d like to not be hungover alone_ **

Dan wondered why Phil was asking  _ him _ to hang out when surely Phil had other friends at the party to get coffee with, but he certainly wasn’t going to pass up an offer to get out of his dorm. He asked for a time and stood, his phone bouncing on his bed. If he was going  _ anywhere  _ today, it was going to be  _ after _ he took a shower. The phone screen lit up on Dan’s sheets.

**_-Around noon? Pretty please?_ **

Dan sent his affirmation and rushed to the shower, feeling the little window of time he had closing in further and further. All he was doing was meeting Phil for coffee; he didn’t know why he was so nervous. Phil had sent him the address while he was in the shower, accompanied by a colon-parentheses smiley face. Dan typed out one of his own, hovering over the send button before backspacing.

Riding the bus alone made him nervous too, but apparently it was something he would do for Phil—not that he’d ever admit that. Phil would very easily use it against Dan, and Dan wasn’t quite sure where he stood with being teased.

Phil had found a home in the cushion chairs in the corner furthest from the door, scrolling through his phone. There wasn’t a cup in front of him. Dan walked over and sat down in the chair next to Phil, making him look up.

“I wanted to wait until you got here to order,” Phil said, tucking his phone away. He stood, pulling the bottom of his hoodie down from where it bunched. “What do you want?”

“I can just go with you to order-,” Dan started.

“I got it,” Phil smiled. “Just tell me what you want.”

“Oh uh, I dunno, surprise me, I guess?” Dan didn’t even like surprises, but he trusted Phil’s opinions on most things, and he trusted that Phil knew the menu here better than Dan ever would.

“As you wish,” Phil replied and walked off, and it occurred to Dan that Phil hadn’t even asked Dan for any money to pay. It was probably going be easier to just pay him back, Dan figured. He pulled out his wallet and began rummaging for small bills. Figuring he had enough, he put his wallet away and looked up at Phil as he stood idle to the side of the line and waited for their coffees. The two met each other’s eyes for a moment, Dan making a stupid face and Phil making one in return. A barista called Phil’s name, and Phil quickly walked back over to their seats with two cups.

“Hope you like caramel,” Phil said, passing the warm cup to Dan. It was hard not to take note of how cold Phil’s fingertips were when juxtaposed with the heat of the coffee.

“Hang on,” Dan shifted to get his wallet.

“Don’t worry about it,” Phil said, removing the lid from his coffee and blowing at the top. He took a small sip and winced.

“You sure?” Dan paused, setting back down.

“Positive,” Phil blew at his cup again. “It’s nothing.”

“Whatever you say,” Dan raised his cup to his lips and held it there. “Wanna tell me about the party?”

“Did you not like my commentary?” Phil frowned, taking a bigger sip. “Better than what you hear at a sports game, let me tell you.”

“I wanna hear you tell stories for real,” Dan said. He shifted back into his chair and pulled his knees up, nestling into himself. 

“My stories  _ are _ better when I tell them face-to-face.”

“I’ll bet,” Dan took a sip of his coffee.

“They’re so good they’ll make you wish all movies were directed by me.”

“We’ll see,” Dan teased, and Phil shoved at one of Dan’s knees where it sat in front of his face.

“I normally don’t even really go to parties,” Phil started. He became quieter, “I really only went because I thought you’d say yes to coming with me, and I didn’t wanna have to tell him I wasn’t going after I already said I would.” The admittance was unexpected and earnest, and Dan felt his heart sink a little.

“Sorry,” Dan said, body heating up with guilt.

“It’s alright, I still had a good time, I guess,” Phil looked down at his drink, “but I would’ve had more fun with you.”

This was nice, definitely nice. And last night’s stories really were better when Phil was telling them, but Dan wasn’t going to encourage Phil’s ego. In the lull between conversations, they just kept to their own cups of coffee and caught one looking at the other before quickly looking away. Phil chuckled into his cup every time Dan took a loud slurp, on purpose because he was proud of making somebody laugh. 

Everything in him felt warm and good, and Dan knew then just how much this would hurt to let go of. He’d so easily become well-acquainted with this new kind of ease, and he wasn’t sure it was possible to ever go without it again.


	8. ch. 8

Coffee outings very easily found their way into Dan and Phil’s routine, which wasn’t helping Dan’s growing caffeine addiction. If Dan were being honest, he really didn’t mind it as long as it meant spending time with Phil. It felt natural to be around each other, despite how clingy Dan knew he sounded. But after all the time he went without this kind of friendship, could anyone really blame him? 

It felt good finally having someone he could really  _ mesh _ with. Someone for Dan to talk to about all the music he listened to behind his parents’ backs, because it just so happened that Phil loved them all, too. Someone to introduce him to different TV shows and movies, because lord only knows he’d never seen a single episode of  _ Friends _ , among other things.

His days all blended together into coffee with Phil or hanging out at Phil’s flat or helping with Phil’s film or chatting with Phil’s dad. 

Admittedly, the latter was a bit of rarity in the mix.

On the days after school that he was doing stuff with Phil, Dan didn’t really mind Professor Lester not being around. But sometimes, he just really needed an  _ adult _ to talk to, not just another friend (as if he had more options than Phil). Dan wondered why Professor Lester always seemed to have somewhere to be when Dan came by after school. Not really always, but more often than not. 

On the days he  _ was  _ around, however, Dan revelled in it. He loved this new ability to truly confide in somebody, to get all the words out of his head and feel truly okay doing so. It helped him feel better about the weight of things, although Dan didn’t really think he needed the extra help as much anymore. But it was good to have it available, just in case. He’d definitely brought his grade up a lot throughout the rest of the term, and the short film made the time pass by, not really faster, but better. Even the slow days were good because they weren’t spent studying law.

Not to mention how much Dan  _ really _ enjoyed spending his weekends at Phil’s, watching movies or playing video games or just being generally stupid in a good way. 

Dan didn’t know what he was going to do with himself over Christmas break as it breathed down his neck. He certainly didn’t want to be at home with his parents, having to answer all of their ridiculous questions and listen to all of their ridiculous lectures. If he could have things his way, just for once, he’d gladly just stay on campus, maybe even ask Phil if he could just shack up in his flat for the break — like house-sitting.

He’d miss being able to hang out with Phil and his friends. And getting to chat with Professor Lester about life and other things that made Dan wish he’d signed up for more philosophy classes; maybe it would help him make more sense of all the weirdness floating around inside him. Clear up some of the fuzz around the edges.

Things were good, and that was really all that mattered. Better than they had ever been. Dan had felt happier about himself more in the past  _ month _ that he ever did in the past 18 years. It almost scared Dan how dumbstruck with happiness he was. His parents never called, not wanting to disrupt Dan’s precious revision time, which gave Dan the freedom to finally not worry about them hounding him over his academics. More time to spend with Phil, more time to make Phil’s friends  _ his  _ friends, more time to make up for everything he lost to his grades.

Only another month until break. Dan was sure he’d go through withdrawal. It would take everything in him not to obnoxiously text Phil every ten minutes just to see how he’d been doing since the  _ last _ ten minutes. Not that Phil seemed like the type to mind, but the fear remained. Dan wasn’t losing this, not if he could help it.

Phil’s short film had been coming together really nicely, too, which made all of Dan’s efforts in the past month feel so much more worth it. Of course, Phil would’ve made them worth it anyway. It felt good to be a part of something that was actually  _ meaningful _ . It wasn’t just hard work for Phil and his friends; it was passion, dedication. Dan impatiently waited to find that feeling for himself. Phil often offered his reassurances that it would come along eventually, and Dan found comfort in that knowledge. Some things just take time, as he was quickly learning.

They hadn’t really had any big introspective talks about anything, not that Dan really even felt like he needed them. Just Phil’s company was enough to keep all of the static in Dan’s brain at bay, and for that he would be perpetually grateful. Might even write Phil a thank-you note, if he was feeling so generous. That would make Phil laugh, and Dan knew how much he enjoyed being the reason for Phil’s stupid tongue-in-teeth grin.

Dan didn’t know how to describe the feeling of his life recently other than just  _ nice _ , and it was so refreshing to finally feel that way. He woke up every morning to a new warmth in his chest that grew with every story Phil told that reminded Dan of this goodness he was so lucky to have found.

There was no way in hell Dan would even  _ think _ about taking this time for granted.

They sat in their new usual corner of the coffeeshop, Dan’s legs thrown over the arm of his chair, facing Phil. He held his cup close to his face, letting the steam warm his face and eyeing Phil over the rim. He couldn’t remember what they were talking about; he had much rather focus on Phil’s expressions as he spoke. Dan only really honed in on Phil’s one-sided, caffeine-fueled ramblings when he heard the word “girlfriend.”

“What’d you say?” Dan played off, thankful for the convenience that a particularly loud song had just started play.

“That Leo and his girlfriend just broke up,” Phil repeated, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Oh, well that sucks,” Dan replied.

“Yeah, apparently they’d been together since we started uni,” he shrugged, lowering his cup. “None of us really saw her very much, but from what I remember she was pretty nice.” His lips quivered, like a question was waiting on them but wasn’t asked.

“Sometimes things just don’t work out, I guess,” Dan shrugged, raising his cup to his lips.

“Have you ever had a girlfriend?” Phil asked.. The question was a rush of blood to the head, and Dan was glad he’d drank enough of his coffee that it wouldn’t spill all over him when he jolted. Phil noticed and added, “That’s probably a stupid question. I don’t really know why I asked.”

“It’s fine,” Dan shifted in his seat. “Not really my… area, I guess.” Dan watched Phil’s eyebrows raise and quickly backtracked to clear things up. “Dating in general, I mean. My parents much preferred to keep me holed up in my room to study.”

“Oh,” Phil nodded, taking a drink. “That’s cool, not really  _ cool _ , but like, I get it, y’know?”

Dan nodded back and took a sip of his own drink, the two of them entering a silence slightly less comfortable than Dan had grown accustomed to. It was easy to shake off, however, as they easily found their way back to talking about nothing and everything at the same time.


	9. ch. 9

Everyone around Dan was in full panic mode for exams. Phil and his friends were in what Dan had starting calling their editing cave, so Dan hadn’t seen them around much for the past week. He wasn’t worried about them, though; he was sure whatever they ended up with would be good anyway, especially after everything he saw them put together during production. He reminded himself to ask Phil when he could watch the final edit, maybe suggest having a little viewing party with the other three at Phil’s flat before break.

Dan was realizing more and more how much he didn’t want to go home. He already spent more time at Phil’s flat than he did in his dorm room, catching a cab back to school to sleep and go to class only to ride in Phil’s car back to his flat. Sometimes they talked — well, Dan talked, and Phil graciously listened because he knew Dan just needed to get the words out. Most of the time, it was just nonsensical ranting for the sake of it, but it made Dan feel better, and Phil knew it made Dan feel better, so they kept at it. Phil wasn’t that much of a talker anyway, Dan gathered; Professor Lester wasn’t kidding when he said Phil was shy. 

_ He’s just one of those closed-off types, _ Dan thought, _ or something like that. _

But Dan figured making each other laugh so hard and so often made up for it. He liked having people in his life he could actually do that with. It was new and nice and something Dan had absolutely no intention on taking for granted.

Dan should probably have been studying for his finals tomorrow, but he and Phil were playing Mario Kart and Dan was  _ not  _ about to let Phil win. It was especially fun to make Phil swear, which he didn’t do very often; that’s how Dan knew he was especially frustrated about how hard he was losing to reigning-champion Dan.

“Beginner’s luck, I guess,” Dan said cockily, throwing a shell back and pulling his lip into his mouth to concentrate on the final lap.

“Fuck off!” Phil said loudly with a laugh, trying and failing to swerve out of the sabotage. “You always say that! Let me have this  _ one  _ round!”

“I’m sorry, Phil,” Dan mocked, coasting easily past the finish line, “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“You’d never even  _ seen _ that movie until you met me!”

“Not my fault,” Dan said, coasting easily past the finish line, “and it’s not like I’d never heard of  _ 2001: A Space Odyssey  _ before you. You’re not the first nerd I’ve met, Philip,” he teased. Phil groaned and gnawed at the one of the joysticks on his controller, a little habit of his Dan couldn’t help but be endeared by.

“All or nothing!” Phil called, giving Dan a pleading smile.

“You say that every time and you  _ always  _ get nothing.”

“Meanie,” Phil huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting out his lip.

“Actually, it’s Dan.”

“Shut up,” Phil shoved Dan into his side of the sofa.

“Don’t hate the player-”

“I’ll do whatever I want with the player, thank you very much.”

“Sounds kinky,” Dan raised his eyebrows.

“Fuck off,” Phil struggled to stifle his giggle.

Half a semester wasn’t a very long time for Dan to feel like he’d known Phil his entire life.

It was a good feeling.

Eventually, Phil resigned to his defeat and suggested the order pizza for the night.

“Phil, I’ve got exams tomorrow,” Dan protested, even though he knew he didn’t want to go back to school or his room any time soon.

“You have  _ one  _ exam at like 2pm,” Phil argued. “You can let yourself have pizza and stay the night, Dan.”

Dan almost sputtered. Staying the night at somebody else’s house —  _ not  _ counting his grandparents — was  _ very  _ new and  _ very  _ unfamiliar.

“Stay the night?” he tried to avoid sounding  _ too  _ caught off-guard.

“Yeah, I’ve gotta be back at school by 1:30 to turn in the film anyway, so I can just take you back.”

“But I really need to revise-”

“You know that entire course like the back of your hand.”

Dan weighed his options. In truth, he wasn’t worried about his exam. Knowing him, he’d probably have the highest grade in his class. But this friend thing was all foreign territory. Apprehension might as well have been his middle name.

“And I might have an air mattress lying around somewhere if you want that, but if not you can just sleep on the sofa or something,” Phil added, thinking that was the only thing really stopping Dan from being okay this. Everything around Phil had felt so perfect and good and  _ natural _ , but Dan’s breath stilled in his chest.

“What are you worried about?” Phil asked. Not maliciously, though. The furthest from it. He shifted onto the cushion between them. 

Dan thought about the door right behind him, how easy it would be for him to catch a taxi back to school and just avoid this whole thing entirely. Avoid confronting his ridiculous anxieties about allowing himself to open up to anyone because vulnerability was always weakness in his parent’s eyes.  _ You’ve hardly even known each other two months, _ Dan reminded himself.  _ He doesn’t need to hold all of your stupid baggage. He didn’t ask for your stupid baggage. _

“Hey,” Phil shifted closer. Dan felt his added weight sink him slanted into the cushion. “You can talk to me about it, if you want. But I’m not going to make you if you don’t, and I’m not going to make you stay here if you don’t want to do that either.”

The world really didn’t deserve people like Phil Lester. Dan especially didn’t deserve him.

Dan felt like he was gonna be sick with all the words bubbling up inside him. All the words he usually wrote down and stowed away and pretended didn’t exist until he needed to make some more.

And he could never help it when they all fell out again.

He needed to get out of here. The feeling crawled its way up Dan’s throat like sickness and there was no way in hell he was letting it ruin the sanctuary he found here. 

“I gotta go,” Dan said quickly, prying himself away from Phil despite the tug in his stomach that told him to stay there, to just  _ talk  _ and trust that maybe just this once, sharing himself wouldn’t destroy him.

“Dan,” Phil began, standing along with Dan, who was already at the door. He didn’t bother grabbing his coat.

“I gotta  _ go _ , Phil,” Dan bit back the choke of his voice and the tears caught in his eyelashes. He didn’t bother grabbing his coat before he opened the door; he didn’t hear it slam behind him.

“Dan!” Phil called down the hall, but Dan was already barreling himself down the stairwell. He could hardly see his feet touching the steps in front of him. 

He wondered if Phil had followed him out and turned to find that he hadn’t.

Of course he wouldn’t.

Everything fell apart as Dan came off the stairs. The air made Dan’s wet face sting as it bit at him. He managed to hail a cab, shivering as he climbed in and stuttered out the university’s address; maybe the cold would make the cracks in his body that presented themselves in his throat less obvious. He reached his hand to his pocket to check the time.

_ Shit. _


	10. ch. 10

Dan hardly slept that night. Then he nearly missed his semester final. Then he most likely  _ bombed _ his semester final. Then he got packed for the break, minus his only good coat and his phone. Then his parents came to get him.

The car ride home was worse than he ever could’ve imagined it to be without being able to ignore his parents. Dan hated having to answer questions about school, and he hated having to lie about how he was spending his time. They’d never hear about Phil because Dan knew they’d be disappointed in the fact that Dan had been wasting his time being social rather than studying. Even if they didn’t care, he wasn’t sure he would tell them about Phil anyway. They would find a way to be disappointed about it anyway.

So he lied, which he’d grown so accustomed to doing for them. None of his professors ever gave out full grades because no one truly deserved them; his dad admired that kind of ethic. Dan hadn’t really met anybody but got along pretty well with the people in his class even though they didn’t see each other outside of a lecture; his mom appreciated that he wasn’t getting too caught up in people.

He wanted nothing more than to listen to music and watch everything change outside the car as they drove home.

The very last place he wanted to be.

After meeting someone like Phil, being home for holidays just made Dan think of all the summers he could’ve spent with friends that were wasted shelled up in his room. Holidays were really the only chance Dan ever had to actually be a  _ kid _ , and he wasted them in isolation. Wasted his entire life in isolation.

His head was full of television snow.

And he really missed his phone.

And he wasn’t going to admit that he really missed Phil.

Dan finally had something good in his life, something more than a letter grade or a class rank or a forced obligation to his parents, and he lost it. The only person that ever made him feel like something more than test scores and percentage points.

If he could run to Phil, he would. And he would tell Phil everything there was to say. Lay it all on the table and finally,  _ finally  _ get the heaviness out of his chest. Maybe even understand what that heaviness actually  _ was _ , understand why he was so eager to run away from himself every time he got close.

But that wasn’t going to happen. Dan doubted Phil would be so forgiving, even in spite of his inherited kindness. 

So he pushed it down, just like he had for the past 19 years of his life. Made the voice shouting for him quieter and quieter until it was just a hum, a faint buzz in his ear. A fly in the room that’s there and gone before he can even register the sound.

Dan couldn’t believe this used to be how he lived. Or that so much could be so different in just a few months.

He hated how stupid that sounded. How absolutely  _ pathetic  _ it sounded.

It returned to the faint buzz and he tried to remember what it was like to be surrounded by silence.

_ Just make it to Christmas, _ he told himself. Then he’d have to make it to New Year’s, then he’d have to get through the rest of university trying to convince himself that he could make it as a person in a life that he now knew was not his own.

_ You have struggled into existence and are now slipping silently out of it. _ He remembered all the days they had to themselves, spent watching movies Dan couldn’t deny falling in love with.  _ Synecdoche, New York _ was his favorite in a painful way; Dan didn’t want to remember that. He didn’t want to remember how he rushed himself to the bathroom as soon as the end credits rolled just to hide the red around his eyes. He didn’t know how to make it disappear before he had to go back to face Phil, and he knew Phil would come knocking if he didn’t go sooner. Dan hated coming nose-to-nose with Phil once he finally did open the door, feeling himself go pink as Phil told him, “I was about to check and see if you were okay,” as if he didn’t already know the answer. Dan said he was fine, and Phil let him because that’s just who Phil was. Not one to push people, but rather allow them the space if they chose to use it.

Dan found himself forgetting that he  _ hadn’t  _ in fact known Phil his entire life. He told himself over and over how ridiculous it was to be this way over a person he still hardly knew, to feel this exposed to a person he hardly knew.

He thought of all the things he didn’t know about Phil, but Phil knew about him. Too many secrets. Too many words. Dan was unsure of this new feeling of exposure, vulnerability; he knew he hated feeling that way with his parents, hated them knowing anything that laid behind the guard Dan kept up for a reason. 

But this was different. Part of him wanted to buy back every word he’d ever poured out at Phil’s feet and keep them all tucked away where they belonged. Emotions had no place outside of him, but part of him still wanted to spill out everything and let himself feel empty.

Dan still feared his words did more harm on the outside than they ever could on the inside. he couldn’t believe he actually let himself get comfortable being open when he knew so much better than to let anyone in.

His head was heavy, more full of his words than academia. It wasn’t static anymore; it was roaring and  _ screaming _ , reminding him over and over of the parts of himself he didn’t want to know.

But now it felt like Phil knew all of the dark parts, too.

Dan caught himself worrying about what Phil was doing with all of that in his head. He hoped Phil didn’t think any less of him, even if they never talked when they went back to school. Then he remembered Professor Lester knew a lot of Dan’s insides. Not all of it, but enough to make Dan look different.

Dan hoped he didn’t look different.

Even with both of them knowing, Dan still felt some kind of unease about it, but even that didn’t feel like the right way to describe it. Professor Lester was a trusted adult, someone Dan could easily confide in as a parental figure and seek advice from. But Dan and Phil were on even playing field in all this. 

Phil probably thought Dan was a child, running away from something as simple as a sleepover.

But it wasn’t that. At all. It was the most complicated thing in the world.

He couldn’t make sense of the feeling. Nothing Dan could muster to describe it felt quite right, but it was definitely nothing like he’d had ever felt before. The feeling replaced all of the words in Dan’s stomach; that’s why they found a new home in between his temples.


	11. ch. 11

Christmas couldn’t have been more lackluster if it tried. Dan didn’t get much other than clothes, as usual. His family visited his grandparents on both sides of the family, as usual. His parents egged him on about school, lectured him about staying focused on his academics — not to get caught up in being social —  _ as usual _ . Dan didn’t know just how much being around his family could actually make him  _ miss _ being at school. Although he wasn’t really too keen on going back there, either. Wasn’t too keen on being anywhere at all. Not without Phil.

The irony of losing the one person who didn’t make Dan feel lost was not missed on him as he sat at the dinner table, letting his parents do all the talking.

“I do hope you aren’t letting anyone down there distract you. Slacking is very unbecoming of you,” his father said during dinner, muffled with food stored into his cheek as he chewed. His mother hummed an agreement through her glass as she took a drink.

Dan gave up on arguing with them about his life long ago, when he realized that it was never really his to begin with. He grumbled, “I’m not,” and scraped down the last of the food on his plate. He hadn’t been feeling hungry at all since he came back home, but finishing his plate at dinner meant going to his room and getting away from his parents. 

He ran his plate under the tap and sat it down on the other side of the sink before hurrying upstairs to his room, closing the door with a soft slam and sinking down against it. His eyes became cloudy when he hit the floor. His head thud against the door and he stared up at his ceiling, pulling his lips between his teeth to keep himself quiet.

If only they knew just how Dan had been spending his time since October 19th — probably the happiest he’d ever been. He wanted to kick himself for remembering the exact date. A chasm between before and after Phil. 

Of course, that was all over now. 

Now, it was back to the static.

Dan was just waiting for New Year’s Eve to finally roll around, so he could see his semester grades and have his parents off his back until he had to go back to Manchester. Until then, he did his best to spend more time asleep than awake. 

Everything was quiet when he slept; he couldn’t even hear the static.

He dreamt about Phil. Every single night. Reaching for him, calling his name, clawing desperately at the air, trying to get closer but always falling short.

Always just out of reach.

He woke up every time to a face wet with tears. It hurt in his chest the most, but he didn’t understand the ache.

He should’ve been smart enough to know more than that. Should’ve been smart enough to know why this hurt so much. Should’ve been smart enough to know better than to let himself get caught up in other people. Dan was learning what it felt like to miss people.

He wished he could memorize and calculate his feelings the way he did in school, but they just didn’t make sense. Dan feared they never  _ would  _ make sense, that he would never understand himself the way he understood textbooks and formulas.

But Phil, Phil made sense. Without even trying. The only sound that was ever in Dan’s ears when they were together was Phil’s laughter. Then Dan had to go and ruin it all for himself. Throw away the only friend he’d ever had like it meant nothing to him when really, it meant everything in the world. Just to finally be understood without ever having to explain himself in the first place.

It was growing impossible to tune out his parents’ voices now. He could hear them talk about him in the lounge through his bedroom door; it sounded like arguing even though they always agreed. He wished they would stop acting like he’s a child, but that wasn’t going to happen. Dan was at least smart enough to know  _ that. _ They would keep their assumptions of his life on a pretty little shelf in their heads, nice and pristine on a pedestal Dan always managed to fall short of. Always managing to find something about Dan to be disappointed in. He wanted to break it down, as if they could ever really understand the hell they put him through for his entire life. It felt pathetic to think like this, making Dan feel like some melodramatic teenager raving about how his parents  _ just don’t understand _ , despite of truth that statement could ring. 

_ You brought it upon yourself _ , his parents would say, and he knew they were right. Dan was left to steep in his complications all on his own.

The static grew louder to tune out their shouting. It wanted to swallow him whole, making itself known just when Dan thought he’d escaped it. At this point, Dan would let it, too. 

It trailed all around him as he ate, as he showered, as he slept. There was no peace anymore, not even the illusion of it. Everything was fuzz and static and this mosquito buzzing in his ears that he just couldn’t kill.

Phil was gone, and that was a promise Dan had no choice in making. Dan wondered why he did this to himself, why he made himself hurt so much, then resigned to the fact that some questions he would just never know the answers to.

Time drew on longer and longer as Dan spent his days in something comparable to a catatonic state. The only thing louder than the static was the water running past his ears from the shower head. Every limb felt heavy as he dragged himself through the empty days, routine now sullied with the knowledge of what he’d been missing before and what he was missing after.

He played a waiting game with the calendar.


	12. ch. 12

December 31st couldn’t have come any sooner. 

Dan spent the entire day holed up in his room, back and forth between refreshing his emails and watching videos. Anything to forget the fuzz. His parents hardly bothered him, most likely saving their share of scolding for when Dan had a flute of champagne in his hands.  _ What a way to ring in the new year. _ He caught himself wondering what Phil was doing. Out partying without so little as a second thought of Dan or how he was doing. Dan couldn’t blame him, either. At least one of them was having fun.

He never did ask Phil if they could watch his short film together.

Phil had probably put it on YouTube by now.

Dan didn’t want to watch it. At least, not without Phil, which meant he probably never  _ would _ watch it.

Finally, a slew of emails rolled in from his different professors. His grades were everything he expected them to be — he still even made a good grade on the law final he was sure he had failed. Professor Lester added a little note at the end of his email to Dan, telling Dan that he hoped he’d been feeling better, that he was still always available if Dan even needed someone to talk to. Dan frowned, remembering Phil, and closed out of the email. 

At least his parents would be satisfied with his grades. They’d leave him alone just a bit longer, long enough for Dan to be back at school and away from them.

He decided to scroll through the rest of his emails, figuring it would at least be some form of a distraction from himself. Junk, junk, junk, chain mail, Facebook notifications he didn’t care about-

**From: Philip Lester**

**[no subject]**

Dan felt the air around him freeze in its tracks. He checked the date the email was sent: 24/12

He didn’t want to read it. He wanted to pretend he never saw it in the first place. Every piece of his body pounded on his bones; his ribcage felt like it was going to crack open at the sheer force his heart was pounding against his sternum.

**_Dan you left your phone at my flat and I didn’t know how else to talk to you but then I remembered we have school emails, so I’m writing this and really hoping you’ll read it. I’m just really worried about you. And I really hope this email goes through and you didn’t leave uni because I miss you and I’ll miss you more if you’re gone. I just really want you to be alright and I hope you have a good christmas_ **

**_PS: here’s the link to the short film we made. My professor really liked it, I was hoping we could’ve watched it together_ **

Dan felt wetness hit the back of his hand where it rested on the trackpad of his laptop. He really wished his body would stop doing that. A new feeling started to bloom in his stomach, bigger and stronger than any of his old aches.

Every inch of himself told him no.

But the static that usually filled his ears was silent.

He waited, anticipating the roar to return. But it didn’t.

He didn’t even think twice before doing what would either be the stupidest or the smartest decision he’d ever made. For once, this wasn’t the time to overthink things through.  _ Less thinking, more doing _ , he told himself, repeating the mantra to himself over and over again as he moved.

Dan quickly added a new tab and bought the cheapest and soonest tickets to Manchester he could find, still spending most of the money in his bank account in the process. But that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore except Phil. The only person Dan ever felt right calling his friend, even when that sometimes didn’t feel quite right either. No time to question that feeling, yet.

**From: Daniel Howell**

**_be at picadilly station by 10:30 tonight_ **

He closed the laptop and worked quickly, gathering as many clean clothes he could find that would fit into his suitcase. Once that was packed, he moved onto getting some other things together into a backpack, foregoing things like his hair straightener for the sake of time. Dan finally packed his laptop, going as quickly and quietly as he could through his house.

With absolutely no guarantee that Phil would even see it in time, let alone actually meet him in Manchester.

At this point, Dan wasn’t sure he cared. It was getting him out of his house, away from everything in his life that was turning to decay. Two weeks of Christmas break weighed heavy on his body, and he could already feel it falling off.

He made his way quietly down the stairs, skirting past his parents’ bedroom on his toes without even considering to leave a note. Dan opened the front door slowly and curved himself around it before closing it back. The cold air ate at his skin, but his insides were boiling. His feet hit quickly after one another on the concrete as he walked, Dan remembering and not caring that he didn’t lock the door. 

His entire body was wide awake, an energy greater than anything else he had ever experienced. All the worry, the apprehension, the doubt that accompanied the static — it was all silenced by the sound of the adrenaline in his heart pushing him further and further away from home. There was still so much inside of him left to give, and he very gladly wanted to part ways with all of it. 

Dan had let himself remain tied to the dock when all he ever really wanted to do was swim.

Maybe this was the feeling, some kind of escape. It was telling him just how vulnerable he was and how vulnerable he  _ could  _ be, and he chased it down with every part of himself. He wondered how he could ever doubt the overwhelming relief he felt as he let his insides out.

Dan didn’t want to feel empty, but light.


	13. ch. 13

On long train rides, Dan usually loved watching the English countryside roll by. It was always a nice time to think of nice things, to fantasize about a world where his insides felt right and his outsides felt real.

This time was urgent and anxious and dreadful. All he could think about was seeing Phil, apologizing for the ache he’s caused.

Dan wished this train would go faster. Everything dragged by around him. He tried to find just one detail to center himself on, but his head couldn’t find any purchase. The words he thought of saying all ran together in his head. Everything bounced around in his chest and made it feel tight. He wished it was easier to find the right words to say to people — the ones that healed rather than hurt.

He still didn’t know if Phil was actually going to be at the train station or not.

_This is stupid_ , Dan quickly found himself falling back into thinking patterns he wasn’t proud of. _He’s not going to be there._ These were the ones he couldn’t shake, especially when the train began slowing down as it approached his station. He looked down at all the people waiting on the platform for their lovers and their families and their people, not once seeing anything that could even come close Phil. _He’s not out there. Why would he have come for you?_ _You’re smarter than this._

That was just it. Dan was supposed to be smarter than this. What good was graduating at the top of his class or being in law school if he was still such an idiot? Smart people didn’t make rash decisions like buy last-minute train tickets to a city three hours away without even knowing if someone would be there to find them.  _ Normal  _ people didn’t do it, either.

But Dan had certainly never been normal.

And now he wasn’t even smart.

The thought burned all the way through his stomach and past his throat and into his eyes, making itself known as the train finally screeched to a halt. Dan watched through foggy eyes as passengers in his car gathered their things, none even giving him the time of day; no one cared about silly, stupid boys. He grabbed his suitcase from under his legs and left his dignity in the seats.

Now Dan was alone in the middle of Manchester with no one to run to.

He felt humiliated. All of these strangers were probably looking as this boy — this  _ child  _ — with tears rolling down his face and thinking about just how pathetic it was. Dan couldn’t bottle this feeling anymore, nor did he care to at this point. He might as well let them stare.

The air was even colder as he stepped out onto the platform.

He really did feel empty.

The platform gradually cleared as people boarded the train or left the station, leaving Dan at a standstill on the other side of the yellow line. He didn’t know where else to go.

He looked up and around, hoping to find some station employee that could direct him to a motel he could stay in, or maybe even help him get another train back home. Dan wasn’t sure with one was worse to admit.

Then Dan started running. Before he could even comprehend what he was seeing. He dropped his suitcase where he stood on the platform and ran the fastest he’d ever run in his life. They both barreled toward each other like asteroids doomed to collide, and they did, chest meeting with a thud as they pulled each other in. Dan wasn’t sure it was possible for him to let go of this feeling, and Phil certainly didn’t seem to be budging any time soon. Every part of him felt warm.

There were no words — only arms and tears and the sniffly understanding of difficult apologies.

How could he have been stupid enough to even think Phil  _ wouldn’t _ have come for him?

So there they stood, holding each other and rocking on their feet until the platform was void of everyone but them. Dan felt a wet patch growing on his shoulder, and he was sure he was doing the same to Phil.

He didn’t know it was possible to miss someone so much, to care about someone so much. Dan was sure there was a word for the specific kind of longing he felt, but he didn’t want to try and define things right now.

Finally, Dan pulled his chin away from Phil’s shoulder, they’re eyes in matching pinks as they met. The two laughed at themselves and their mess, both so incredibly happy knowing it was  _ theirs _ .

Phil sniffled before speaking first, quietly, “I brought your coat.” Dan hadn’t even noticed it over Phil’s arm where it wrapped around him. Phil pulled it around, breaking the grip they had on each other. Dan took it and pulled it on, passing Phil his backpack; it smelled like Phil, and Dan wanted it to stay that way.

“I’m sorry,” Dan rushed out. “For doing that to you. I’m sorry I ran away.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Phil gave Dan a sad, comforting smile. “And I’m sorry, too.”

“What do you even have to be sorry for?” Dan asked.

“Freaking you out, I think,” Phil admitted. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You didn’t freak me out. I freaked myself out,” he said. “I’m just so fucking terrified of  _ everything _ , all the time. I’m exhausted, Phil.”

“Why are you scared of it?” Phil’s face became sadder; Dan hated doing that to him.

“I don’t know,” Dan sighed. “I really don’t.”

“That’s okay, I suppose you don’t really have to explain why you feel the way you feel all the time.”

“I just wish I could make sense of it for myself sometimes, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah I know.”

They walked together to retrieve Dan’s suitcase under the watchful gaze of a few station workers, and this time, Dan didn’t care what he looked like to them.

Dan was suddenly very aware of the fact that he didn’t know where to go from here. He knew the dorms at school would be open if he really wanted to stay there, but the very  _ last  _ thing Dan wanted was to spent another night in that dorm room.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” he asked, a little embarrassed. The thought still terrified him, but he really didn’t want to be any further from Phil than he had to be.

“As if I’d actually let you stay anywhere else,” Phil took the handle of the suitcase from Dan’s hands.

All Dan could muster up as a response was, “Okay.”

He couldn’t explain the overwhelming rush of safety he felt in the passenger seat of Phil’s car. Dan reached a hand out for the AUX cord before remembering he didn’t have his phone.

“Oh, and I have this,” Phil reached into his pocket, pulling out the sorely-missed device.

“Thank you,” he grabbed it eagerly and took in the feeling of Phil’s cold fingers as they brushed against his own before plugging it in. This time, the songs weren’t to impress; they were just to be heard.

The ride back to Phil’s house was long in the good way, and Dan felt a little bad for making Phil go so far out of his way for this. But Phil’s voice silently reminded him,  _ you don’t have to feel bad for being a normal person. _ He grinned to himself, curling against the door and watching the street lights as they passed by. 

Dan soon found himself dozing off, not even noticing until he felt the nudge of a hand on his shoulder. He looked over to see Phil’s face illuminated by incandescent life.

“C’mon, Dan,” Phil nudged him a bit more. “Let’s get inside.”

They would talk in the morning, and that was a promise they didn’t have to make. Right now, all either of them wanted to do was sleep. Dan was quick to collapse down on the sofa. Phil checked the time.

“It’s 12:01.”

“Happy new years, Phil.”

“Happy new years, Dan.”

They both ended up sleeping in Phil’s bed, Dan finding himself really not wanting to be alone anymore and Phil not seeming to want to let him; Dan wasn’t sure who needed the comfort more.


	14. ch. 14

Dan woke up first to the sight of Phil’s face, still asleep. He smirked to himself before climbing out of the bed and sneaking off to the bathroom; he needed to wash himself clean from everything. Neglecting to bring his own shampoo, he figured there was really no harm in using Phil’s, and he knew Phil wouldn’t mind. He laughed to himself as he noticed the scent: raspberry.

Once out, he took a long look at himself in the mirror. His tired eyes ran all over his reflection, searching for something but not quite sure of what. Maybe he just needed to see his own face and remember that he was more than the fuzz that coated his insides.

He walked out to see Phil now on the sofa, bowl of cereal held in front of his chest.

“Hey,” Phil said with a mouthful, not turning back to look at Dan. “You good?”

“Yeah, just wanted to take a shower.”

“You brought stuff for that?”

“Actually I, uh, I just used yours, if that’s alright,” Dan said shyly. He moved to join Phil on the sofa. The air was heavy between them with everything that was still left to say.

“As long as you like smelling like raspberries,” Phil hummed. Dan wasn’t going to admit the strange comfort he found in it.

They were quiet for a moment, the only sound being that of the spoon clinking against the ceramic of the bowl in Phil’s hands.

“Do we wanna talk about this now or later?” Dan asked, finally the first to at least  _ attempt  _ to initiate what they both knew was going to be a long and emotional conversation.

“I think now would be better,” Phil said, setting the empty bowl down on the side table. “Where do you want to start?” He angled his body toward Dan, and Dan returned the favor.

Those few words made all of this become very real and very new and very,  _ very _ frightening. Was Dan really ready to talk about this?

“You start it,” Dan said, willing off every urge to turn away from Phil.

“Oh, um, okay,” Phil looked a bit uneasy himself. Dan caught himself worrying about what Phil was going to ask him. “Um, what exactly… happened, that night? Like, what set you off, I guess.”

Dan took a deep breath. He wanted this to work, and he knew he was going to have to try for it just as much as Phil seemed willing to.

“It’s just… it’s a lot,” he tried to laugh it out to break the tension, and he knew it didn’t work as soon as he met Phil’s concerned gaze. “We’ve only known each other for  _ two  _ months,  _ god  _ Phil.” They both got a much-needed laugh out of that one.

“Could’ve had me fooled,” Phil grinned.

“Is it normal to want to pour your entire life out to people you barely know?”

“Well I wouldn’t say  _ barely _ ,” Phil defended, “and I guess not. But neither of us are really that normal, are we?”

“I guess not,” Dan smirked. “Sometimes I have to remind myself how long we’ve  _ actually _ known each other.”

“I do, too,” Phil added, knowing how much Dan appreciated the comfort. “I wonder if we were like, next-door neighbors in a past life or something.”

“We were probably just some fucking fish, or something,” Dan mocked.

“Salmon mate for life, you know?”

“ _ Gross _ ,” Dan laughed. They were glad for the stupid stuff, laughing with each other before Dan settled himself down. He took a breath, “Okay, I think I’m ready.”

“Okay,” Phil said, in that same kind voice that reminded Dan just how ready Phil was to help carry the weight of the world.

“I never really like, had friends growing up. My parents always said it was a waste of time being social when school was way more important. So I never really did anything,” Dan was sure Phil had heard all of this before, but he imagined that this time, the words hit a little heavier. “No sleepovers, no parties, no dating, no spontaneous whatevers. I’ve never even drank before.” He felt stupid admitting it, even the parts Phil already knew. “So I guess being thrown in to it all of a sudden just kinda scared me.”

“But,” Phil paused, “but what made you lose it like that?” Dan visibly winced at the words, causing a slight panic in Phil. “I didn’t mean to phrase it like that.”

“I know you didn’t,” Dan reassured him. “I really don’t know. It all just  _ hit _ me, I guess, actually having people that gave a shit and wanted to hang out with me.”

Dan wasn’t sure he was making sense; it didn’t feel like a good enough explanation, but it was all he could fathom saying. Phil seemed to get it, though. 

Already, his head felt lighter on his shoulders. Dan was admittedly a little surprised at how he managed to keep himself together as he admitted these things.

“Is there… is there anything else?” Phil sensed something more inside Dan, keeping him pulled tight; Dan wasn’t sure what that was supposed to be.

“I don’t think so,” Dan said lowly. He looked down at his hands, then back up to Phil. “But I’ll let you know if I find it.” They grinned at each other, and Dan was thankful for the understanding Phil provided without question.

“That’s alright. You don’t have to,” Phil shifted himself closer, sensing how vulnerable Dan was feeling. Dan was just surprised he wasn’t crying yet and grateful for Phil’s new closeness.

“So, that’s my half of this,” Dan said simply. He approached his next words carefully, like tiptoeing in a minefield. “Now what about you? Why were you so worried about me?”

“I just care a lot about my friends, I guess,” Phil said that a little too easily for Dan’s comfort. 

He squinted at Phil. “There’s more you aren’t telling me. I’m trusting you here, so I think it’s only fair that you trust me, too. Cough it up, Lester.”

Now Phil was the one taking a deep breath. Dan hoped he wasn’t forcing too much from him.

“My best friend killed himself when we were 18,” Phil breathed out, keeping his eyes down and voice low. “Just a week before we graduated. We’d gotten into University of York together.” Dan felt his heart drop into his stomach. “No one else here knows that. Not through my own volition, at least.”

“Phil,” now Dan was the one shifting closer, “God, I’m so sorry.”

“There was so much I didn’t know about him until after that. I used to tell him everything, even stuff I probably shouldn’t have been telling him.” Dan wasn’t going to pry into Phil’s past; instead, he’d try to do what Phil did for him and just allow him the space to use if he wanted to. “No one expected it, either. He didn’t even leave a note.”

“I’m really sorry,” Dan felt stupid for not having more to say, and he felt stupid knowing that Phil would tell him feeling stupid was stupid.

“I just couldn’t go to York without him. My parents understood, but I felt like I was letting him down in some way. I spent a lot of time feeling guilty for it, wondering what more I could’ve done for him — if I could’ve prevented it somehow.”

“You did everything you could,” Dan offered. “Everything you knew to do.”

“I know I did,” Phil began, “but it was hard to come to terms with that. Since then, I’ve always tried to make sure the people I cared about knew that I cared about them, and make sure that they’re doing alright as often as I can. I guess it’s what the guilt turned into. Like, reconciliation or something.”

“That’s okay.”

“I was just so terrified that you’d done something, too, that I couldn’t help you,” Phil’s voice began to choke up. He looked up at Dan with red eyes.

“You don’t need to bear all that responsibility.”

“I know, but sometimes I feel like I have to.”

Dan could feel that Phil didn’t have anymore words left to say, so he opted to hug Phil instead, hoping that would sort out the leftovers neither of them could figure out how to get right.

“We’ll be okay, Phil,” Dan said after while. They pulled each other closer, the tightness a reminder of how easily intertwined their lives had become. “Promise.”


	15. ch. 15

“Why have you never mentioned that you have a second room before?” Dan asked, a box in his arms as he moved into the kitchen.

“Cause it’s been full of stuff I never unpacked after I moved in,” the box in Phil’s arms hit the counter with a hefty thud.

“Well look at me helping you unpack, then,” Dan grinned.

“Just so you can take up the space, greedy,” Phil moved back into the second room, grabbing another box.

“It’s Dan, actually,” Dan called, following.

“It’s whatever I want to call you in this house,” Phil bumped Dan with a box.

“Good luck with that, Lester.”

After all of their talking, they both decided how much better it would be for the both of them if they just lived together. It got Dan out of the dorms he hated, and it allowed the two of them the comfort of just having each other around. 

Dan, however, missed the semester deadline for changing majors.

He didn’t even know what he would change his major  _ to _ .

Phil tried to throw out suggestions as the migrated the boxes out of Dan’s new room and moved new furniture in, but every suggestion didn’t feet right in Dan’s ears. “Doctor?”  _ No.  _ “Teacher?”  _ No. _ “Filmmaker?” Phil nudged Dan with his elbow, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Definitely not,” Dan teased. Phil gave an exaggerated frown and drew a line from his eye down his cheek with his finger.

They would figure it out eventually. Together, because Dan was finally becoming okay with asking for help when he needed it. It would all work out in the end, and that was a promise to each other.

“Movie night?” Phil asked, wiping his hands down his jeans as he sat down the last of the boxes.

“After all that physical labor? You’re gonna be lucky to get me to stay awake for the next five  _ minutes _ , let alone five hours,” Dan sat dramatically at the dining table, putting his head down against the cool tabletop.

“Then what am  _ I  _ supposed to do? You can’t just leave me to my own for the rest of the day with  _ nothing _ to do,” Phil pleaded. He sat in the chair next to Dan and laid his own head down on the table, eyes meeting Dan’s. “We still haven’t gotten around to watching that short film I made,” he drew the end of the sentence out, and Dan knew he was a goner.

He really did still want to watch it, though.

Dan rolled his eyes and sighed before dramatically pulling himself up from the table. Phil had that cocky grin on his face, knowing he’d won; Dan couldn’t help but smile for it. 

“I’ll make the popcorn?” Dan offered.

“Done,” Phil said, quickly running into the lounge to set up his laptop. Dan shook his head but still moved to get a pack of popcorn from the cabinet.

Phil was sitting eagerly in the middle of the sofa, legs crossed and eyes beaming like a child.

“Someone’s excited,” Dan said, passing him the bowl. He sat down on his usual side, the cushions now accustomed to his body.

“Obviously,” Phil scooted closer so they could share the bowl easier, legs drawn close to his chest. Dan felt one of Phil’s feet nudge against his leg, but he didn’t mind it.

“What did you guys decide on as the final title?” Dan asked. He reached over and grabbed a handful of popcorn, holding it up to his chest with one hand.

“128 Seconds,” Phil said.

“The one I came up with?”

“Yeah,” Phil answered through a mouthful. “It was  _ super _ last-minute. I wanted to tell you, but-”

“I’m glad you picked it,” Dan interrupted. He knew neither of them really wanted to rehash any of that. This was their last weekend of free time before the new semester started, and they intended to enjoy it.

“It turned out really nice, my professor loved it.”

“Then I’ll have to love it, too.”

“He doesn’t really have the best taste.”

“Oh shut up and play it!”

They watched silently, Dan beaming as nearly every single one of his suggestions and idea came to life before him. Even ones he wasn’t sure had actually made the final cut. Phil had readily and hastily accepted Dan into his own world, and Dan was finally seeing it all pay off. He couldn’t help but blush at the sight of his name under “Special Thanks.”

The screen exited back to YouTube, and Dan hoped Phil wasn’t judging him for his uncontained pride in both himself and Phil.

“That was  _ really  _ good, Phil,” he said.

“You mean it?” Phil asked. Dan wondered why he was always so humble about himself, even with his facetious moments, but maybe he’d learn one day.

“Lawyers aren’t supposed to lie,” Dan quipped. “I mean, some are, but that’s not the point. Of course I mean it.”

“Says the kid who wants to drop out of law,” Phil remarked. “But I’m glad you liked it.”

“I really did, promise,” Dan said, smile sincere.

“Did you also like all of your bits that got put in?”

“Obviously. I even got my own special thanks in the end. It’s about time I get the credit I deserve,” Dan crossed his arms and stuck up his nose.

“You basically co-wrote the script, to be fair,” Phil started. “But I don’t think my professor would’ve been cool with that, so we just went with the card in post.”

“Well I wouldn’t say  _ that- _ ”

“You honestly did, Dan,” Phil’s tone quickly became more serious. “You have really good ideas. You could probably be a writer or something like that if you wanted to.”

Dan chuckled, “Maybe.”

The thought wracked his brain for the rest of the night and kept him awake as he tried to sleep.  _ A writer? _ he thought.  _ Why the fuck would I be a writer? _ His brain led him to Phil’s door, where he soon found his fist tapping lightly against it. Dan wondered what time it was and looked behind him to the oven. 2:26am.

“Phil,” he whispered through the door. “You awake?” No response; he knocked again.

“Phil,” a little louder. “Phil?” Dan heard the knob turning. He was met by Phil in his pajama bottoms, hair a mess as he squinted at Dan without his glasses.

“What?” Phil whispered, voice low.

“I’m kinda having a crisis,” Dan started. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“It’s fine, you know I never mind,” Phil said, opening the door further to let him in. Dan hated that Phil never minded, but he loved it all the same. 

Dan hadn’t been in Phil’s room since that night, and the darkness of it was just a strange reminder of how things changed for them. He felt safe here.

“I don’t know how much help I’ll be right now, but you can still just talk about it,” Phil said, sitting back down on the bed. Dan walked over, sitting opposite him.

“I just keep thinking about what you said earlier, about how I could be a writer if I wanted to. It like, weirded me out.”

“How so?” Phil sat forward, a bit more attentive.

“It’s just never really been something I’ve thought about before,” Dan felt stupid; he always felt stupid talking about things like this, admitting to the parts of himself he’d never paid close attention to. “So now I’m thinking about it and it’s just  _ weird. _ ”

“If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t realize I wanted to do filmmaking until the end of my first year.”

“ _ Really _ ?”

“Yeah,” Phil raised his voice a bit. “I was originally in linguistics, but I’d always thought filmmaking was cool, so I took some stuff my second semester, and that was it. I had to stay an extra year to catch up with the degree requirements though, but I guess that all worked out in the end,” Phil offered a soft grin, and Dan knew exactly what he was talking about.

“I’m glad you had to take an extra year then,” Dan said, returning the smile.

“I think my point is that you don’t have to have everything figured out quite yet. There’s still loads of time for you to decide, the rest of the semester especially.”

“It’s just weird not having the answers to everything, I guess,” Dan admitted. He played with the bunched fabric of Phil’s bedspread in front of him.

“That’s just something you have to get used to, then. It’s okay not to have all the answers.”

“I  _ know  _ it’s okay, I just,” Dan sighed. “It’s hard to get used to.”

“I’m sure it is,” Phil was so obviously tired, but he really was doing his best to help. “But there is still some time.”

“Thanks,” Dan smiled. Phil yawned; Dan really did hate doing this to Phil so much. 

The two of them sat still for a moment, neither wanting to move until the other did first.

Phil’s “Do you wanna sleep in here tonight?” and Dan’s “Can I stay in here tonight?” ran together into a bar that at least ended on the same note. They laughed at themselves, moving into the bed without a word. 

Dan wondered if this was normal, but then again, neither of them were really  _ normal _ . Plus, he had to make up for all the lost time he could’ve spent doing the exact same thing as a kid, and it was nice knowing that someone to talk to was just an arm’s reach away. Nice to not feel so alone anymore.


	16. ch. 16

Phil wasn’t in bed when Dan woke up the next morning, which made Dan wonder where he’d run off too. He rolled over, curling into the blankets and sheets when he heard the faint sound of keyboard clicks. Dan squinted an eye open to see Phil, headphones on as he edited away at something on his computer.

Dan stood and moved into the space behind Phil, watching over his shoulder while he typed and re-typed words in courier font.  _ A new script _ , Dan assumed. Phil leaned back in his chair, interrupted by Dan behind it. He craned his head back, looking at Dan upside down.

“What are you working on?” Dan asked.

“A script due tomorrow.”

“Why is your professor making you turn stuff in the first day we go back?”

“Hell if I know, but what I  _ do  _ know is that I’d forgotten about it until after you’d fallen asleep last night.” Dan supposed he had something to do with the forgetting, but he was trying not to feel bad about being a person.

“So you’ve been awake  _ all  _ night working on that?  _ Phil _ ,” Dan’s eyes widened.

“It’s not like I won’t get it done.”

“Yeah, but  _ still _ ,” Dan looked back up the screen. “How much do you have left?”

“I’m like, halfway through.”

“And you’re gonna have it done in time?”

“I will if you stop distracting me,” Phil flashed a toothy grin. Dan flicked his nose.

“Fine, meanie.”

“I’ve already told you my name’s Phil.”

“Only if you’re nice to me.”

“I’ll be nice to you when I finish this script. Deal?”

Dan shrugged, “Whatever you say.”

He knew he should probably leave Phil be; the sooner he finished the script, the sooner he would be hanging out with Dan.

Dan just didn’t know what he was going to do with himself until then. He’d already gotten so used to always having another person around all the time. It was nice to talk to each other, learn about each other. Dan worried what he was going to end up thinking by himself again.

But there were other distractions here. A full collection of movies and TV shows and video games Dan could now freely peruse. He knew Phil wouldn’t mind.

Looking at the rows and rows of DVDs was overwhelming, to say the least. It was easy to watch stuff or play games with Phil because he made his mind up about what they were doing before ever even asking Dan if he wanted to do it, knowing Dan would always agree to it. He closed his eyes and dragged his fingers across the spines, stopping at a random point and pulling it out from between the other cases. This would be good enough to tide him over, for the time being. 

Phil emerged from his room two or three time to grab a drink from the fridge or go use the toilet, smacking Dan lightly on the back of his head each time he walked past. Dan would always look up, meeting Phil’s smirk as he looked over his shoulder and walked. Sometimes he’d mutter, “This is my favorite part” or “This part made me cry the first time I watched it,” and Dan would have to try his best not to let Phil influence his own opinions, even if he had already wiped the tears off his face when Phil wasn’t looking.

When Dan decided he’d done enough crying for the day, he wiped the red out of his face and knocked on Phil’s door, hoping Phil would at least be  _ almost _ done with his script. Phil looked up, startled but happy at the intrusion.

“How much longer is that thing gonna take?” Dan asked. He resisted the urge to step closer and spoil it for himself.

“Lucky for you I just finished it, then,” Phil smirked. “Lemme email it to him and I’ll be out in a sec.”

Dan didn’t have to be told twice, closing the door behind him and going back to his side of the sofa. He waited patiently for Phil, pillow clutched to his chest and legs crossed. There was no way he could ever get used to this feeling, this contentedness that made his entire body warm.

Phil emerged shortly after, falling into his own side of the sofa and letting his head fall against the back.

“Are you, are you tired?” Dan asked sheepishly.

“A bit yeah,” Phil yawned. “But I wanna watch stuff.”

“It is a little late, I guess,” Dan didn’t know what time it was.

“First thing in the morning?” Phil turned his head on the sofa to Dan.

“Deal,” Dan grinned, tossing the pillow to Phil, “but pick stuff that doesn’t involve crying, please.”

“No promises,” Phil said.

Dan walked toward their bedrooms, moving to push open Phil’s door before stopping his hand when it touched the wood. “Sorry,” he said to no one in particular.

“I mean, you can if you want, I guess” Phil said behind him. He pushed past Dan into the room, Dan noticing their shoulders brushing together. “I don’t mind.”

Two nights in a row felt a bit excessive, but Phil probably thought Dan needed it. In any case, Dan would gladly pretend he did. He followed Phil in, switching out the lights as Phil climbed into his usual side. Dan clambered in the dark toward the bed, a hand finding purchase on Phil’s duvet-covered ankle. Phil didn’t move his foot away, and Dan didn’t feel the need to apologize.

Dan felt Phil shift as he slipped under the covers, probably turning away; he couldn’t really see too well in the dark. He let himself turn into the center of the bed; he felt less exposed that way. With his eyes closed, Dan couldn’t tell if he was just imagining the faint feeling of air blowing on his face in a steady rhythm. His stomach fluttered at the idea, letting himself settle further into sheets that smelled like Phil.


	17. ch. 17

They woke up closer to each other than Dan remembered them being when he fell asleep, but he didn’t think too much of it. If he was being honest, he actually kind of enjoyed the weight of another person next to him. It was easy feel spoiled by the company.

He almost moved to check the time, then decided against it.  _ Stay like this, just a little bit longer, _ he told himself, not bothering to question what compelled him to do so. Dan let himself soak up the peace and quiet, wondering what went on in Phil’s head as he slept. Phil began stirring in his sleep, and Dan quickly rolled over to face away from him. He could feel the shift of Phil moving as he stretched from his side of the bed, deciding to pretend he was still asleep; he wasn’t sure why. He heard the plastic of Phil’s glasses click together as Phil moved from the bed without a word, placing a hand on Dan’s covered ankle as he walked out of the bedroom. Dan missed the touch as it left him.

Dan allowed himself to get out of bed a few minutes later, glad to see Phil on the sofa with a bowl of cereal, the same way he always was.

“What are today’s plans?” Dan asked, opening a cupboard for a bowl.

“I dunno, yet,” Phil mumbled. “Any ideas?”

“We could watch that show you were talking about the other day,” Dan noted, pouring himself cereal from the box Phil left on the counter.

“You want to?” Phil asked.

“Isn’t my answer always yes?” Dan grinned. “ _ After _ I take a shower first.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Phil grinned back.

Dan showered quickly but debated between using Phil’s shampoo or his own, settling on his own even though he didn’t really like the smell anymore. His wet curls were still obvious through the fog on the mirror, and he thought of Phil pulling at them every time he saw them.  _ Pigtails _ . He returned to the lounge and settled into his corner, the two of them nodding to each other as Phil turned on the TV and started the show.

It was easy to lose track of time when it was being spent with Phil. Dan picked popcorn out of the crevices of his shirt from Phil throwing a handful at him, throwing it back at Phil with a snicker. He let himself stretch out on the sofa, tensing when he felt his feet hitting Phil’s thigh. Phil didn’t move, so Dan didn’t either. And they stayed like this, touching each other in this slightest way as if it were nothing, until sunlight didn’t cascade over them from the window-doors in the kitchen anymore. 

Dan checked the time. 11:32pm.

And tomorrow was the first class of the new semester.

Dan wanted to beg to anyone that would listen for just a little more time, to argue that he  _ deserved  _ this.

The episode ended and Phil stood, leaving the bottoms of Dan’s feet cold. He stretched his torso back and yawned before turning off the TV. Blue darkness swallowed Dan where he sat alone on the sofa.

“I’m gonna go ahead and take a shower now instead of in the morning, so goodnight,” Phil announced, punctuating it with a yawn. Dan hummed back a goodnight, and Phil his way to the bathroom, a yellow bar of light peeking out from under the closed door. Dan understood that he was sleeping in his own bed tonight, his tongue heavy in his mouth. He didn’t want to get used to being alone again.

He slept. Poorly, but at least he slept. He let himself get lost in the feeling of water hitting his back as he showered, startled by the knocking on the bathroom door.

“Dan? We have to leave in like twenty minutes,” Phil called through the door.

“I’ll be out in a sec,” Dan called back, the first words he’d said all morning. He feared the fuzz was crawling back over the corners of his head. His damp curls caught his eye first as he stepped out:  _ No time to fix it. _

Phil watched Dan with cautious eyes as he moved from the bathroom to his own room to get dressed, the gaze burning on Dan’s bare back even after he closed his door. This was a new feeling, not fuzz or static or that same old heaviness. No, this was something else entirely. Something that burned at the back of his throat and brewed in the pit of his stomach. Dan found it got worse when he looked at Phil, although he couldn’t put a name on why. It was most likely the absence of another person as he slept, but he didn’t want to think about that — didn’t want to think about how that could make his throat tighten the way it did.

The drive to school was tense in a way that even Phil noticed; Dan could tell from the way Phil kept looking out of the corner of his eye to Dan in the passenger seat. Dan hoped Phil didn’t notice how he stole glances of Phil’s profile when Phil wasn’t looking.

The tightness in Dan’s throat went away as the day distracted him from it. All he wanted when his final class ended was to be on the sofa and watching a movie with Phil, thinking neither more nor less of it. Relief washed over him when he met Phil where he always was against the columns outside the law building.

“Coffee today?” Phil asked, shoulders tight in the cold.

“Please,” Dan breathed, walking ahead. He’d forgotten just how exhausting school was, his mind more preoccupied with… other things. All he wanted to do was not think about school for a little while, to just sit his and Phil’s usual corner, talking about nothing and everything all at once. As far as Dan was concerned, everything that didn’t harm his own well-being was the  _ least  _ of his worries. He wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted for the rest of his life, but he was glad to be figuring out what he didn’t — and  _ especially _ glad to have shaken off most of his weird mood.

He frequently caught himself staring at Phil as he drove them to the coffee shop, and more as Phil ordered and waited for their coffees. Something in him told him to try and capture every detail he never noticed through all the fuzz. It was difficult for Dan to convince himself to stop. Phil either didn’t notice or was polite enough not to bring it up, and Dan was grateful either way. 

But Phil had to notice that something was a little bit  _ off _ . 

“You alright?” Phil asked, eyeing Dan over the rim of his cup.

Dan replied an absent-minded affirmation, now focusing his attention all over the walls of the coffee shop from their corner.

“You sure?” Phil knew Dan too well already for him to get away with denial.

“Just thinking about stuff, I guess,” Dan said, hoping his usual pensiveness would be an easy out.

“What kinda stuff?”

“Just stuff,” Dan certainly was not going to admit how much of that stuff was Phil.

“Yeah, the new semester feels weird sometimes,” Phil assumed, going back to their usual everything-nothing conversations. 

He didn’t try to get Dan to respond to anything, just talked to Dan’s open ears under the assumption that Dan just needed the distraction; really, Dan just wanted to hear Phil’s voice and let himself get lost in it. 

There were questions he wanted to ask himself, but Dan was learning that maybe he didn’t need to know the answers to everything. For now, he could at least allow himself this simple pleasure of the new fluttery feeling in his stomach that he never wanted to go away.


	18. ch. 18

To say Dan’s head had been feeling a bit clouded over the past few days was an understatement. Every empty space between his thoughts was quickly occupied by flashes of Phil, by his voice and his face and his knack for making Dan feel so refreshingly  _ happy _ .

Their usual dinner plans — takeaway on the sofa with a TV show to watch — were cancelled in favor of work Phil had to do, a rough cut for a film due in the morning. He was frantic and focused, not even leaving his room out of fear of losing his groove. And Dan left him to it, despite how much he disliked not getting to see each other. Dan didn’t acknowledge the strange jealousy he felt at having Phil’s attention stolen from him. The only benefit he found was how the time allowed him to catch up on some coursework he’d admittedly been slacking on, much preferring to spend his time doing things that actually made him feel good about his life — mostly anything involving Phil. 

The fluttery feeling invited itself along everywhere now, finding a permanent residence in Dan’s gut whenever they were together and getting stronger when Dan was alone. It manifested itself in Dan’s dreams the most, almost always about Phil now. He wondered if this was a normal feeling or just another another product of making up for lost time, the latter making him wonder what part of his lost time he was actually making up for.

Dan brought Phil a bowl of cereal to at least have  _ something _ in his stomach and returned an hour later to find it untouched. He rolled his eyes and took the bowl into the kitchen, completely unnoticed by Phil. Staying behind and watching as Phil worked was a hard temptation to resist. It took more effort than he wanted to admit to pull himself away from Phil’s space and go back to the work he still had left to do in his own room.

It had been getting late, even later than when either of them normally went to sleep, and they both had lectures scheduled for 8am. Dan felt like a mother staying up late to make sure her kid comes home alright from a night out. He knocked and entered without getting a response, finding Phil still clicking away at the clips on his editing software, hair pushed off his forehead with his headphones and glasses sitting open next to the keyboard. Dan knew Phil fidgeted with his hair when he was stressed, oddly endeared by this little piece of Phil that only  _ he  _ got to see.

He walked up quietly and tapped on Phil’s shoulder. Phil leaned his head back on his chair, the same way they always did for each other. Dan pulled off one side of his headphones.

“It’s getting late and we have to leave at 7:30,” Dan said simply.

“I’m almost done,” Phil excused.

“It’s not even a final cut, Phil. It doesn’t have to be perfect,” Dan couldn’t help but yawn.

“But I want it to be,” Phil whined. “You get anal about stuff too, you know.”

Dan rolled his eyes and came off the back of Phil’s chair, spinning it around to bring Phil’s body facing his; the fluttery feeling waxed and waned with the breeze of the chair. He outstretched his arms and placed his hands on the armrests, putting his face closer to Phil’s.

“It. Doesn’t. Have. To. Be. Perfect,” Dan stressed each word, moving closer and closer for emphasis. “Okay?”

Dan expected Phil to hum back “Alright, Mum” in response before finishing it up and heading to bed, maybe even offering Dan to sleep with him if Dan was feeling stressed out — Dan could only dream —  but the idyllic thought was interrupted by Phil’s face coming in closer until there was no space left between their lips. 

Dan was surprised at how willing he was to melt into it. He let himself become pliant for a moment, finding himself overwhelmed by the feeling, the  _ rightness  _ that washed over him in swallowing waves. It didn’t make sense —  _ this _ didn’t make sense — but still somehow made all the sense in the world.

“What are you doing?” Dan said softly into Phil’s mouth. He wanted to sound coy, amused even, anything that told Phil  _ do it again _ , but the way Phil’s eyes widened and his shoulders heaved up as he took in a sharp breath meant the message didn’t get across.

“Fuck-shit-I-don’t-know-what-I-was-thinking-fuck-god-Dan-I’m-so-sorry-you-can-go-if-you-want-shit-I’m-sorry-fuck,” Phil pulled himself and the chair away from Dan. He stood, pacing near the side of his bed. Dan remained where he was, watching as Phil grew more frantic. 

“Phil-”

“Dan-I’m-really-sorry-I-didn’t-mean-to-well-clearly-I-meant-to-but-you-know-what-I-mean-fuck-I-ruined-this-I-ruined-everything-I’m-so-sorry-I-”

“Phil,” Dan said, grabbing Phil’s upper arms to stop him in his place. They stood face-to-face. 

“Please-just-tell-me-we-can-still-be-friends-I’m-so-sorry-fuck-I-just-”

“ _ Phil _ ,” Dan asserted. “Hey, look at me.” Phil looked at Dan’s face, eyes running all over it; Dan wondered what exactly it was he was looking for. “Slow down.” The irony of Dan being the composed one in this situation was not lost on him.

“Was that,” Phil paused, eyes focusing on Dan’s nose, “was that your first kiss?” Dan nodded slowly, sending Phil into another frenzy.

“ _ Fuck _ -I-stole-your-first-kiss-shit-I-don’t-know-what-that-could’ve-meant-to-you-I’m-sorry-I-didn’t-”

“ _Phil!_ ” Dan tightened his grip on Phil’s arms, holding him steady. “Look at me, in the eyes, right now.”

“You really don’t want me to do that,” Phil said, voice slower but still full of cautious admission.

“Why not?” Dan challenged. What if he  _ did  _ want Phil to look him in the eyes and do whatever else it was that came from it? He wondered how to convince Phil just how unbelievably  _ okay _ with this he was.

“Because I already just messed this up once and I really don’t wanna do it again,” Phil took a slow, shaky breath. “I  _ really  _ don’t want to lose this.”

“Why would you lose it?” Dan asked, letting Phil keep his eyes were they were.

“Because I’m gonna scare you off.”

“Phil  _ I’m  _ the one holding you here.” 

“Why?”

“So you’ll just  _ listen  _ to me,” Dan let go of his grip, happy that Phil stayed in his place.

“Can we please just forget about this I’m so sorry god I feel so bad I really-”

“Fuck, we’ll talk about this later,” Dan said decisively, using everything in him to keep his hands down, to keep his body from moving any closer than it already was as it wanted to fill in every gap between them. “Just… work on your stuff. Goodnight, Phil.”

“Goodnight,” Phil breathed. Dan moved quickly out the door, closing it behind him and sinking against it, hoping Phil didn’t hear the thud of his back on the wood. He brought a hand to his lips and ran his fingertips over the crevices, trying to bring back the sensation of the warm, soft wetness of Phil’s mouth like it belonged there.


	19. ch. 19

Sleep didn’t come easy, but Dan found his way to it eventually as he tangled into his bedsheets, dreaming of Phil. For a brief moment when he woke up, Dan felt light — until he remembered the feeling of Phil’s lips on his last night. Even then, the memory didn’t really bring a heaviness, either. Rather, that new fluttery feeling again, stronger as it climbed to occupy his chest.

_ How the fuck are we supposed to talk about this? _ Dan threw the covers off himself in a fit of melodrama, sitting up and planting his feet on the floor. He rubbed his eyes with his palms.  _ Should we even talk about it at all? _

Phil knocked on Dan’s door, calling through it that they were leaving in 20 minutes. Normally they woke up earlier than this and had breakfast together, but it became clear to Dan even with such a small and normal gesture that Phil was keen on  _ not  _ talking about it, and sacrificing their normal routine for it. 

If that was what Phil wanted, Dan guessed he could live with it. Maybe he could live with pushing it down and acting like it never happened, as long as it meant not losing everything else. Just as long as the ignorance of it all didn’t eat him alive.

The usual natural energy they had together was lost, and Dan hated it. The air in the car as they drove was stiff and heavy, Phil hardly saying more than a good morning and a goodbye. 

Dan felt completely out of his head all day, hardly able to concentrate even in the classes he actually enjoyed. He floated above himself, letting his body do the menial tasks while his mind focused on Phil. What were they going to do this weekend with everything laying this heavy between them? If Phil wanted them to pretend it never happened, he certainly wasn’t very good at acting never did.

Phil didn’t meet Dan outside the law building after school. Dan found himself trudging across campus to the student parking lot, hoping that Phil’s car was still there. Relief sighed from his body when he saw Phil sitting in the driver’s seat. Dan knocked on the window for Phil to unlock the doors before he climbed in.

“Movie night tonight? Unless you have stuff to work on or whatever,” Dan tried to maintained some sense of the normalcy Phil wanted, even though Phil was  _ really _ bad at it.

“Actually, I’m going to a party at Sam’s later,” Phil quipped. 

Dan eyed him suspiciously, “I thought you didn’t like parties.” He knew what Phil was trying to do, and he wasn’t letting it go so easily.

“I’m trying new things, I guess,” Phil excused. “It  _ is _ my last year, after all.”

Dan could play along, if that’s what Phil really wanted. “That’s fair,” he nodded. Then, after a moment: “Can I come?” He watched Phil’s breath hitch.

“If you want,” Phil struggled to let the words out, “I’m sure Sam wouldn’t mind.”

Dan smiled, “Awesome.”

They didn’t say much else to each other on the ride home, nor any other words until it was time to leave. Phil didn’t want to drive either, making the tube ride to Sam’s place even more agonizing as it was equally coated in silence, and Dan suddenly felt very unsure.  _ What is this even going to do?  _ he asked himself. His fingers tapped on his knees, a new anxious habit.

Dan could see why Phil wasn't a big fan of parties. The room buzzed with chaotic energy, people already drunk and people working on getting there when the two of them arrived. His senses flooded with everything around him to process, and he hadn’t even had a drink.

His would-be first drink. All in the name of making Phil return to their normal groove.

This was going to be more difficult than Dan thought, although he wasn’t entirely sure how easy he thought it would be in the first place. They worked their way further into the room, Dan never letting Phil go too far out of reach. Phil radiated a feeling of wanting to be anywhere but the middle of this crowded room, and Dan absorbed it. The fluorescent glow and the loud cacophony and the brushing of unknown bodies on his made Dan want to escape, pulling Phil in tow.

“Are you actually enjoying any of this?” Dan shouted into Phil’s ear, trying to beat the music for Phil’s attention.

“No, are you?” Phil asked, volume a similar state.

“Not in the slightest.”

“Wanna go?”

“Absolutely.”

Sam had seen them when they arrived, and Dan figured he’d be too shit-faced to notice them being gone. It was already near dark when they got outside, the street lights casting their yellow-orange glow over Dan and Phil.

This is when Dan decided to be bold.

“Still wanna drink?” he asked, a glint in his eye he hoped Phil could see.

Phil’s eyes widened, “Do  _ you _ ?”

“Never have before,” Dan said obviously, “I’m curious.”

Dan knew Phil wanted to drink. Just like he knew Phil wanted to forget. He tried to ignore the sour taste the thought left in his mouth and the sorry feeling it left in his gut.

“Then I guess we can pick something up somewhere and take it back to the flat?” Phil scratched his neck; he wouldn’t look Dan in the eye.

“Then let’s do it.”

The apprehension in Phil’s movements didn’t go unnoticed by Dan. He wondered why he would have to do to convince Phil to lean himself into it.

“Phil,” he said lowly, pulling the two of them to a stop on the pavement. “I’ve spent my entire life cooped up in my room reading textbooks to make my parents happy. Let me see what rebellion feels like.” Was it a little bit vicious? Maybe. 

Phil sighed and rolled his eyes, resigning to it: “Okay.” 

Dan imagined he should’ve felt guilty, but he was beginning to realize just how far he would go to spend time with Phil.

“But,” Phil began, something malevolent and coy under his tongue, “we’re walking.”

Dan wondered what kind of threat walking was meant to pose, aside from making them shiver as they were bitten by the cold. Maybe making Dan do all the navigational work was supposed to act as some form of punishment, but the unsureness just made his blood run hotter through his body. This was a chance to not only settle the air between them, but for Dan to get even the smallest taste of all the dumb fun things he was supposed to be too smart for.

Tonight, Dan wanted to be stupid.

They went back and forth between walking and jogging, anything to keep their blood from freezing. Dan laughed out puffs of air at nothing in particular, already delirious with the feeling. Phil was starting to loosen up a bit, but Dan could sense a hesitance in him that he wasn’t giving up so easily on getting rid of.

“D’you even know where any liquor stores  _ are _ ?” Phil teased.

“ _ You’re _ the one who’s lived here for like four years,” Dan poked back. “Point me to the promised land, Phil.”

“I wouldn’t call a liquor store the promised land,” Phil pulled out his phone. “There’s a 24-hour one half a block away.”

“Any recommendations for my first drink?” Dan asked, now following Phil as he led the way.

“Vodka burns on the way down,” Phil said, not really answering Dan’s question. “I don’t really know what’s good for a lightweight.” Dan wanted to take offense at the slight tease, despite knowing it was true. Phil thought for a moment, “You’d probably want something flavored, Malibu or something. It’s coconut.”

“Anything else?” Dan asked. He moved to walk in stride with Phil, watching the map pulled up on Phil’s phone.

“There’s like, fruit-flavored rums and stuff. And ones that taste like coffee or chocolate,” Phil looked up at the intersection they stood on before turning right. “But I really don’t want to have to have to lug you around if you black out, so no heavy stuff.”

“Who says I’m gonna black out?” Dan challenged.

“You, the lightweight,” Phil said.

“Meanie,” Dan huffed, blowing the air from the side of his mouth into Phil’s ear and making him shiver.

“I’d hope by now you know my name’s Phil,” and that was it, the crack in the shell Phil had so quickly coated around himself. This was the normal Dan was trying to find again, and it felt better than he remembered.

It was easy for them to bounce off each other again and forget about the night before, conversations only paused by cars driving past and the slow bleeding of people onto the Friday-night streets. Dan swung himself on lampposts just to make Phil laugh, reveling in the satisfaction when he did. He was already drunk on the feeling alone.

“I’d cut you off but you haven’t even had a drink yet,” Phil laughed, facing Dan as he walked backwards, the liquor store accidentally forgotten. Dan wasn’t sure how close or far they were from there or the flat, and he honestly couldn’t have cared less.

Dan pouted his lips into an exaggerated frown, “What, no drinking tonight?” He didn’t even want to anymore.

“Another day,” Phil smiled, “You’re a handful enough right now. “ He turned to walk forward again. Dan missed the face and jogged himself in front of Phil, now the one walking backwards.

“ _ C’mon _ ,” Dan whined. “At least let me have  _ something _ to make freezing my tits off worth it.”

“If you can  _ find _ something,” Phil challenged. Dan stopped suddenly in his tracks, causing Phil to bump into him before getting the chance to react. He pulled out his phone and noticed the time. 10:56pm. He wondered where the time went and what they were going to do with so much of the night left. Dan tapped away at his phone, the screen illuminating the bottom of his smile as he looked up at Phil.

“I’m guessing you found something?” Phil asked. He moved forward to get a look at Dan’s phone, who held the screen to his chest in response.

“Ah ah, no peeking,” Dan said cheekily. “It’s a surprise.”

“Coming from the person who hates those,” Phil remarked. Dan couldn’t remember how Phil knew that. The short distraction was enough for Phil to reach for the phone where Dan held it against his chest, making Dan fold into himself.

“Phil s- _ stop _ ! You’ll never,” he gasped between laughed-out phrases, “get it- fuck off I’m  _ ticklish _ !” That admittance was a bad idea Phil used to his full advantage, distracting Dan on his torso. Dan raised the phone over his head to get it away from Phil’s hands where they jabbed at his sides; he clicked the bottom at the top, ensuring Phil wasn’t getting in without the passcode. 

“I’m gonna- fuck- call 999 and report you for  _ abuse _ !” his chest filled with cold air as he pleaded between breathy chuckles.

“Then tell me where we’re going!” Phil laughed, devilishly working harder on Dan’s abdomen to get the phone closer to him. Dan finally brought his arm down to shield his stomach, Phil yanking the phone away. He began rub in his triumph and then noticed the black screen.

“It’s locked, you dingus,” Dan smiled, clutching his sore stomach as he caught his breath. “You’re not finding out until we get there.

“And when do you suppose we’re getting there then?” Phil kept the phone tight in his hand.

“Approximately seven minutes,” Dan beamed. “Now can I have my phone back?”

“You’re not luring me into some secret sacrifice ring, are you?” Phil asked, putting the phone into Dan’s outstretched palm.

“How would I have time to be part of a secret sacrifice ring when I spend all of my time with you?” the last part felt strange coming out of Dan’s mouth — a bizarre but decidedly nice realization.

It must’ve taken Phil aback a bit as well, making his stammer before he spoke again: “I don’t know what you do in your room.”

“Well I can assure it’s not collude with secret sacrifice rings,” Dan replied. Phil breathed a mock sigh of relief, putting his hand over his chest. “Now if you don’t mind, we’re still seven minutes away,” Dan began walking, happy to see Phil catching up to his stride.

“Longest seven minutes of my life,” Phil complained.

“As if you’d rather spend them any other way,” Dan rolled his eyes, unable to conceal a prideful grin.

“Yeah, we  _ could _ be watching movies right now,” Phil replied, and Dan was tempted to let Phil drag them back home. Not tempted enough, though. “Nice and cozy and  _ not  _ freezing our asses off,” he added, rubbing his hands together before blowing into them.

“ _ You’re  _ the one who wanted to go to this party in the first place,” Dan said, coming out with more of a bite than he anticipated. He should’ve held his tongue, the renewed silence from Phil almost deafening. “Just trust me, okay?” he made his voice softer and resisted the urge to make any promises.

The seven minutes of silence hurt in Dan’s chest the most, kicking out the liberating heat in favor of the chill. It was just around this next corner; Dan hoped Phil would come back to him.

“You brought us to a  _ playground _ ?” Phil asked.

“Wanna go play on the swing set?” Dan asked in retort, ignoring Phil’s doubtful question. Phil stayed quiet, and Dan could feel his heart sinking further and further into his stomach. “Just a  _ little _ bit of fun before we go?”

“It’s locked,” Phil noted. He gestured to the black gates in front of them.

“Bold of you to assume we can’t just hop it,” Dan was desperate to make things normal again.

“Bold of  _ you _ to assume either of us know how to,” Phil said, mocking Dan’s tone.

“Shut up and give me a boost,” Dan placed his hands on one of the horizontal bars running across the gate. He stood, watching and waiting for Phil to move. Dan didn’t plan on budging any time soon. Phil finally sighed and moved closer to Dan, pushing up on his feet as Dan pulled himself to the top of the gate. He clambered himself over the pointed tops of the vertical bars, looking at Phil through the bars once he hit the ground.

“Can you get over by yourself?” Dan asked.

“Maybe,” Phil said, hiking himself up on the bars. Dan caught himself staring at the pale space Phil’s shirt once covered as he dragged himself to the top of the gate. Dan stepped back as Phil jumped down.

“Have you ever broken into a playground before?” Dan asked, feeling a bit more giddy now at the thrill.

“No, and I didn’t think I would either,” Phil replied; he brushed his hands off on his jeans.

“Does that make me a good or a bad influence, then?” Dan raised an eyebrow.

“A little bit of both,” Phil answered, and Dan would take anything he could get.

“Race you to the swings,” Dan challenged.

“Haven’t you made me do enough rigorous labor today?”

“Last one there sucks donkey dick!” and Dan took off running, breathing through a toothy grin as he heard Phil’s pounding footsteps behind him. He could feel Phil trying to grab at the fabric of his clothes and just barely managed to escape them, but fumbled over his own feet in the process. He put his arms out to catch himself, rolling onto his back when he hit the ground. Phil came down in a similar fashion on top of Dan, knocking the wind out of both of them. Dan was too focused on catching his own breath to worry about the weight of Phil on top of him.

“Get off me, you big lug,” Dan finally pushed Phil over, leaving them both on their backs.

“Not my fault you fell,” Phil breathed, still catching his own breath.

“Not my fault you’re a sore loser,” Dan smirked.

“Am not!” Phil exclaimed, sitting up on his elbows.

“Are too!” Dan raised himself to be level with Phil.

“Am not!” Phil said again, moving closer emphatically.

“Are too!” Dan said again, moving closer still. Dan suddenly became very aware of just how little space lie between the tips of their noses, feeling the hot air as Phil breathed. “Wanna swing?” Dan asked, voice quieter now. Phil didn’t answer, his heavy breath still coming out on Dan’s face.

“Not really,” Phil admitted lowly. 

And now that Dan was thinking about it, he didn’t really want to do that, either. If he didn’t want to drink and he didn’t want to be the stupid kind of adventurous, what  _ did  _ he want to do?

“Wanna go back to the flat?” Dan asked.

“Please,” Phil’s voice sounded almost relieved, but Dan couldn’t tell. He wished it was easier to know what was going on in Phil’s head.

The night before resurfaced in Dan’s mind again, sending him crashing down from the high he’d been relying on all night. But Phil wanted to forget about it, no matter how much it killed Dan to hold it within himself.

They climbed back over the gates and found a cab to take them home. The air between them became silent again.


	20. ch. 20

All of this not-talking business was torture after Dan had been so spoiled for so long. The weekend was quiet and dull, the two of them keeping to themselves. The only time Dan ever saw Phil’s face was when they both happened to be out of their rooms at the same time, one going in and one going out. Dan feared it was all over, that his serendipity was all used up and Phil would be asking Dan to leave or moving out himself when the school year was finally over.

He didn’t want to be left to his own devices again. He wasn’t sure if he could do it on his own anymore.

Dan just needed a distraction, surely. Some other,  _ healthier _ coping mechanism, because his borderline-codependency for Phil wasn’t doing him any favors. Not anymore, at least.

He could try writing —  _ really _ writing, not just getting the words out because he had nowhere else to put them. If Phil had genuinely thought this was something that Dan could do at some point in time, before things got weird so fast it made Dan’s head spin, the least Dan could do was give it a shot. Maybe revisiting the idea would help, seeing as he hadn’t done it in so long. He hadn’t really felt the need to, but the new heaviness of Phil on his chest would be nice to let go of, seeing as how Phil wouldn’t be much help with it.

His laptop sat open in front of him for who knows how long, a blank slate.

He didn’t think it would be this hard to get the words out. 

This used to be so easy once. 

It had been so easy to become so full of things to say that his entire body would overflow and spill all over the place, but now that Dan was sitting down and actually  _ concentrating _ on it, he couldn’t get a single word out.

And what if he  _ couldn’t  _ get the words out? What if he sat here at his laptop, hands poised over the keys and brows furrowed in concentration at the screen, and nothing came out of him?

Dan had nearly forgotten about the fuzz and static that still coated his insides. The feeling was coming back up to be vomited back out. He didn’t want to do that — not here, not now. He couldn’t stand the hysterics and the flimsy sheets of paper that contained all of his dread.

His insides were becoming coated in his misery again in that overwhelming frustration of not knowing things and being a failure because of it. He thought he was getting better at this, getting  _ past _ this. Dan was supposed to be lawyer, but he couldn’t do that right. Now he was supposed to be a good writer, but he couldn’t do that right either.

He couldn’t even talk to Phil to distract him anymore. 

Dan slammed down the lid of his laptop, not caring if its screen shattered, and let himself sob. He let his body sink lower and lower to the ground as everything fell apart with him.  _ I should’ve known this wasn’t going to work _ , he said to himself. No one in the world was listening to this little boy cry. All that ever mattered about him was how smart he was, and now he didn’t even know how to be anymore.

He threw his head back against the side of his bed and stared at his ceiling —  _ Phil’s  _ ceiling. In  _ Phil’s  _ apartment. Dan didn’t truly live here; he was just an invader. A parasite, infecting Phil’s life with all of his stupid static. Dan shouldn’t be here, ruining other people’s lives the same way he ruined his own. He should be back in that little dorm room where no one had to listen to him crumble to the ground, a building demolished.

And the one person Dan could ever talk to about any of this wasn’t talking to him anymore over a kiss that should’ve felt like nothing. But it  _ didn’t _ feel like nothing, and the realization pulled heavier sobs out of Dan’s throat. He was supposed to just forget about it, and he couldn’t do that either.

The air around him suddenly felt tight, compressed against his shoulders and his back and his chest. He couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears as he cried into the new warmth around him that smelled like Phil. Dan tried to breathe his heart back into his chest. Phil was saying something, but Dan couldn’t hear the words over his own brokenness.

“I can’t fucking do it,” Dan’s voice was muffled into Phil’s shoulder as he sank into him. “I can’t fucking do  _ anything. _ I feel like my head’s full of static. Everything’s just weird and fuzzy and I can’t  _ do it _ .”

“You don’t  _ have  _ to do anything right now, Dan. You just have to breathe.”

So Dan tried to breathe, but all he did was choke on his words and his spit as they caught in his throat. And Phil continued to hold him and rock him and repeat the same “It’s okay” and “Just breathe” mantra over and over until all Dan had left to give was heavy breaths. He didn’t feel like it was okay, but at least he was breathing.

Phil didn’t deserve all of this baggage. He was worth more than just emotional labor. Dan hated always doing this to him. But he wanted it to last as long as Phil would let it.

“I’m sorry,” Dan said. If this was the beginning of the end, Dan would rather go out with a bang than a whimper.

“Why?”

“For acting the way I did when you kissed me,” Dan felt Phil still against him, arms slacking around Dan.

“It was nothing,” Phil said quickly; he still wouldn’t look Dan in the eye. “I said we could just forget about it.” 

Dan willed himself out of Phil’s grasp, getting as close as he could to looking Phil in the eye. “What if I don’t want to?”

Phil was rigid, hands laxed on Dan’s shoulders. Dan wanted to pull all of the fear in Phil’s body straight off his bones.

“W- why wouldn’t you want to?” Phil asked, worry coating his words. Dan wiped his hands down his sore face, clearing it down to just the red skin. He sniffled and hoped a miracle.

“Do it again,” Dan said, holding his ground.

“Do what again?” Phil asked, trying to play oblivious to avoid this conversation at all costs, but Dan was smart enough to know better.

“Don’t try pulling that shit with me,” Dan’s capacity to handle this was wearing thin. His head hurt and his heart hurt and his chest was full of static and that fluttery feeling and he was _tired_ of pretending it didn’t happen, and especially tired of denying that he wanted it to happen again. And again. Over and over until he got sick of the feeling, even though he wasn’t sure it was possible to ever _be_ sick of the feeling.

“Dan, I don’t-”

“Do it. Again,” Dan certainly wasn’t backing down without a fight at this point, shrinking the space between their faces until the tips of their noses nearly touched.

“I don’t- you’re not thinking this through-”

“You’re telling me, of  _ all  _ people, that I’m not thinking this through?”

“I really-”

“Do it again or I’ll do it myself.”

Phil closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath. Dan thought he finally broke the wall, but Phil was getting further away instead of closer.

“I’m sorry,” Phil said, leaving Dan where he sat on the floor. The walls shook as the front door slammed, and Dan was alone again.


	21. ch. 21

Dan didn’t go to school the next day. Or the day after. He couldn’t sleep, the days running as he stared at the walls and the ceiling. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate anything; static consumed him.

He did manage to fall asleep, once, still unable to shake his head of Phil even in his dreams.

They were face to face. Dan held Phil’s head in his palms, trying to read the lines across it with his thumbs. He couldn’t find any stories, couldn’t understand a single line as his fingers brushed over them. Phil was silent, but his mouth was moving. There were words, sentences and stories and importance all over his face and spilling from his lips, but they were lost on Dan’s ears and fingertips. Both of them became frantic, Dan trying to hear the words and Phil trying to make them heard.

He woke up in a cold sweat, dirty hair clinging to his forehead. 

Dan knew he —  _ they  _ — couldn’t keep doing this. He would have to go to class eventually, and Phil would have to come back from wherever it was that he had gone. Probably a friend’s place. Dan wondered which friend Phil trusted to offer him salvation, wondered which friend Phil was telling all of Dan’s mess to. He wasn’t sure if he wanted it to be someone he knew or not.

It was difficult for Dan to just accept good things when they happened, which made it far too easy for them to fall straight through his fingers.

Leaving his room was even harder, seeing little bits of Phil with every step he took. Phil’s bedroom door was left open just the same way he’d left it when he came to check on Dan.

Dan wished Phil would’ve just minded his own business this time.

All he did was stare at the bare walls and feel as empty as they were. Not even enough energy to cry, but the desire held tightly in his mouth.

He skipped the next day, too, and the next, and the next. Dan could already imagine the stack of missed work piled up on his desk that would be hell to finish when he went back —  _ if _ he went back. Maybe he would drop out and live in a box on the streets. No one could bother him, and he wouldn’t have to hear his parents air their disappointment in their deadbeat son. He wouldn’t have to owe anybody anything.

Dan wondered what Phil was doing on his own. Probably actually going to school, relieved Dan wasn’t there.

His room grew darker as he watched the sun disappear behind the skyline. Dan sat perched in the windowsill, head leaning against the cool glass. He watched the people below move about their lives, completely unaware of the boy above them who felt like a stranger in his own. He kept his phone in his hand, anticipating a phone call that was never coming. It buzzed and he answered the call, keeping his eyes on the streets.

“Hello?” the familiar voice made Dan stiffen.

“Phil?” he croaked out, the first words he’d spoken since Sunday.

“I’m sorry,” Phil said through the static of the call. “For kissing you and being weird and leaving you,” he paused, returning with a thickness in his voice. “I’m sorry for hurting you.”

Dan swallowed. “I’m sorry, too,” he said, not knowing when he got the same thickness in his voice and definitely not caring, either.

“What do you even have to be sorry for?” Phil said pitifully.

“I don’t know,” Dan laughed back. “Just everything, I guess. Everything’s so fucking fuzzy right now, Phil.”

“I’m sorry,” Phil said again, his voice cracking; Dan wasn’t sure if it was from the static or something else. “Maybe, somewhere in the middle of all this fuzz and static, we can make each other better, or something.”

“You really had to add that ‘or something’ at the end, didn’t you?” Dan coughed out a laugh.

“Didn’t want to be  _ too _ cheesy, y’know?” Phil laughed back.

Dan huffed a laugh and sniffled, letting the space fall silent for a moment. “Please come back,” he said quietly. It was hard not to realize how much he missed hearing those stupid little Phil-isms, or how much he missed everything else.

“I will, soon,” Phil paused. “Promise.”

The call ended, leaving Dan waiting on the windowsill. He wiped at the raw patches on his face with his hands. He moved toward his door, putting his hand on the doorknob before he remembered Phil’s words. They pulled Dan back and made him scramble for a piece of paper. He pulled an old assignment out of his wastebasket, smoothing out the crinkles on his desk. He found a pen and quickly scrawled down the words — and some others — into something one could be so inclined to call a poem. It was something to be dealt with at another time, with other far more important things at hand.

So, Dan sat in the lounge and waited for what felt like hours. He sat with his legs crossed and fidgeted with the hem of his sweatpants on his ankles. Time wore on and made his face feel dry and heavy. Decidedly done with the fidgeting, he grabbed one of the throw pillows and held it close to his chest, resting his head at the top. It was comfortable enough to tease Dan with the thought of sleep, but he was staying up as long as he had to to see Phil come back to him.

He looked to the bathroom door and ran his tongue over his teeth.  _ Brush them _ , he told himself, not bothering to question the urge. At least it was something to pass the time. Dan spit into the sink, catching sight of the shower curtain in his reflection. A shower would pass the time, too, and he didn’t want to acknowledge that fact that he hadn’t all week. The warm water soothed his nerves as it hit his skin, giving him a brief moment just to breathe as he washed the fuzz away. He looked at his curls with tired eyes in the mirror; Phil would like the pigtails.

Dan was clean and slowly beginning to drift, only to jerk himself back to being awake on the sofa. He turned and squinted at the clock on the microwave. 10:36pm. He turned back around and realized he would wait forever if that’s what it took. Sitting idle for so long was killing him with the anticipation. 

The lock turned in the door, and Dan’s entire body froze, his breath caught in his mouth. He stood, running to Phil before he’d even gotten halfway through the door. He breathed out a quiet “Shit” and collapsed into Phil’s chest; their arms were tight around each other, letting the touch say everything neither of them quite knew how to. Dan let his forehead rest against Phil’s, suddenly very glad he brushed his teeth. His tears came back, running to the fabric of Phil’s shirt like they belonged there.

“Dan, I-”

“God do you  _ ever _ stop talking?” Dan breathed as he rolled his eyes, cupping Phil’s face in his hands and pulling it to his own. In a parallel universe, Dan and Phil had a telepathic connection where Phil knew exactly what Dan wanted from him and did it; this, however, was not that universe, so they had to do a bit of the work for themselves. Maybe Dan didn’t mind that all too much, just as long as it meant they could still have each other anyway..

Phil pulled away, face still held in Dan’s hands. He ran his eyes over Dan’s face like he was searching for something — maybe some kind of incentive for something — but said nothing. Dan felt predisposed to the string in his gut pulling him closer to Phil. 

Things work out the way they’re supposed to. 

This was always going to happen. 

Phil held his hands over Dan’s where they maintained their hold on Phil’s face. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead to Dan’s again, taking a deep breath through his nose before moving back in again, closing the space between them until all that separated them was their skin.


	22. ch. 22

Dan remembered how much he hated being alone when he woke up just as such in Phil’s bed, expecting to have someone’s else’s arms somewhere around his body.  _ Where the fuck did Phil go _ ? He sat up and scratched his neck, wincing at the unexpected tenderness as everything from the night before came running back to him. 

Even more of last night flooded his head, and he sighed at the memory, his stomach fluttering a bit.

Dan reached for his phone before it occurred to him that it wouldn’t be where he normally kept it on  _ his _ nightstand in  _ his _ room, but Phil’s was still charging. He checked the time. 10:24am. Dan caught his reflection in the mirror on the back of Phil’s door, skin littered in purple.

The rest of the flat was eerily quiet as Dan trod through it. He had grown so familiar with waking up to Phil watching something in the lounge or getting ready for class, but everything felt unusually undisturbed. He turned into the kitchen, seeing Phil in his pajama bottoms where he sat at the table with a mug in his hands and watched the streets below through the balcony doors.

“Hey,” Dan said, slowly approaching the table. He sat down in the chair next to Phil.

“Hey,” Phil sipped at his coffee.

“How long have you been awake?”

“This is my second cup,” Phil replied. He sat the now empty mug down in front of him.

They sat silently for a moment. 

“Do you wanna talk about last night?” Dan asked.

“Not right now,” Phil said. 

Dan didn’t even give it a second thought to meet Phil’s left hand where it rested on the table with his own, scooting himself forward to rest his head on Phil’s shoulder and watch the streets together — no rhyme or reason other than it just felt right to do so. He felts Phils’ breath hitch in his shoulders before relaxing under Dan’s chin. 

They stayed like this a while, neither of them cared to know how long. It was the same closeness they had before, the same concurrent trust in each other they had even on that very first day. The same way they had always cared for each other with a new physical touch, a new form of comfort to add to their repertoire. 

Dan wanted to bask in this comfort. He wanted to live in the warmth Phil’s bare skin radiated from under him, the coldness of Phil’s fingertips against the back of his own hand. He’d never known this type of physicality before, nor did he know how he’d gone so long without it. Phil made him wonder about that a lot, and he didn’t mind it.

“Now?” Dan asked softly.

“ _ Now _ what?” Phil asked in the same soft tone.

“Can we talk about it? Last night?”

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Phil began, “but I’m not really sure where to start.”

“I think most people start with that ‘what does this make us?’ shit, but that sounds kind of stupid,” Dan kept his chin on Phil’s shoulder. “I guess we can start with like, maybe, god I don’t know — how long have you like,  _ wanted  _ that?”

This felt like a conversation that should be had where they could look each other in the eye, but Dan didn’t think they needed to. 

“I saw you on the first day of school,” Phil said easily.

“There’s no way,” Dan scoffed. “Really?” He cast his eyes to the side to look at Phil, only seeing the end of Phil’s nose.

“On the quad outside the law building. I was just leaving my dad’s room while you were on your way to it.”

“Holy shit,” Dan breathed. “And you let me go  _ that long _ without knowing you?”

“I think I was a little scared of you.”

“I’m literally like, the  _ least _ scary person on this campus.”

“Pretty faces are intimidating, okay?”

Dan felt a small gush of pride rush to his head. “And after that? When we first started talking?”

“That first conversation we had — after you met my dad — it flipped everything around. I pushed everything else out and just focused on how I could be there for you as a friend. That’s all that really mattered then.”

“And then you kissed me and freaked out, and then you left because...?”

“I got scared,” Phil answered. “I’m not very good at this, if you couldn’t tell.”

“What, like I  _ am _ ?”

“It’s like not seeing the forest through the trees, I guess,” Phil said. “You were literally  _ right _ in front of me, actually  _ asking _ for it, and I chickened out.”

Dan leaned his head a bit against Phil’s: “Well, I’m glad you came back.”

“Now what about you? Don’t think you’re getting off the hook with this so easily.”

“I don’t really know,” Dan admitted. “I haven’t really given it that much thought. I’ve been try to do less thinking and more  _ doing _ , I guess. It just… felt right.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I did something about it then,” Phil laughed, proud of himself.

“The only good thing you’ve ever done,” Dan joked.

“Everything I’ve done with you has been the best decision I’ve ever made.”

“Whatever you say,” Dan considered punctuating his sentence with a kiss on the junction of Phil’s jaw and earlobe. Now everything was squared away, out in the open for them to live with it.

“Are you thinking about anything now?”

“Where we go from here,” Dan answered.

“Do we have to figure that out  _ now _ ?” Phil asked, voice on the edge of a whine.

“I guess not, if you don’t want to,” Dan said. He tried to remind himself:  _ Less thinking, more doing _ .

“Are you thinking about anything else?”

“Kissing you,” Dan admitted, the words falling off his tongue easily.

“Do you want to?”

“I think I always did.”

“What, do you wanna go sit on the sofa and start making out?” Phil chuckled, amused by Dan’s candidacy.

“A little bit, actually,” Dan said with a laugh.

“I was mostly joking,” Phil replied, a small chuckle mixing itself in. Dan resisted the new urge to place a kiss on the pale skin of Phil’s neck.

“Then I was mostly joking, too,” Dan said, pushing out the urge with everything he had.

“Whatever you say,” Phil was rolling his eyes, Dan could tell, but he could also tell the dopey grin plastered on Phil’s face.


	23. ch. 23

The day was lazy, and Dan felt like they deserved it after all this time. It was nice to just lay in bed, wrapped into each other, talking about nothing and everything in between kisses. Phil was drawing ellipses with his fingertips along Dan’s shoulder. He wasn’t paying too much mind to what they were saying, instead choosing to focus on the touch. He heard a familiar name-call and perked up for a response.

“I’d think you’d know by now that my name is Dan, sir,” Dan said next to Phil’s ear. 

“As if you could say anything other than  _ my  _ name last night,” Phil stated so obviously that Dan felt his entire body flush. “And no funny business today. It’s been a long week.” Dan wanted to roll his eyes.  _ You’re telling me. _

“Maybe I’m saving my  _ funny business _ ,” Dan pulled his head off Phil’s shoulder, missing the warmth.

“For another person?” Phil asked.

“Another day,” Dan clarified. “You’re the only person who’s gonna put up with me long enough anyway.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“What kind of challenge would that even be?”

“The kind where I always win and the prize is your vocabulary being reduced to nothing but  _ ‘Phil, fuck, Phil, Phil, Phil,’ _ ” Phil mocked with a whine, throwing his head back dramatically. “ _ ‘Don’t stop, fuck, please-’ _ ”

“I do  _ not _ sound like that,” Dan now felt very red and very exposed.  _ Do I really sound like that? _

“You heard it here first,” Phil paused, “oh, and I guess I did, too.”

“Bully,” Dan huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“That’s not what-”

“Stop it!” Dan laughed, then, under his breath, said, “I don’t sound like a porn star.”

“I believe that  _ you _ believe you don’t sound like a porn star,” Phil grinned cheekily.

“Whatever you say,” Dan said, settling back down into Phil’s chest.

They allowed themselves to fall into a comfortable silence, Dan thinking to himself about everything.

“Not to sound stupid or anything, but what is this exactly?” Dan asked into Phil’s chest.

“Whatever we want it to be, I guess.”

“Then,” Dan moved his head to look up at Phil, “what do  _ you  _ want it to be?”

“Well the  _ ideal  _ scenario is to live happily ever after and ride off into the sunset on horseback, but A, we can’t predict the future, and B, horses are actually horrifying,” Phil explained.

“You’re  _ scared _ of horses?” Dan fully belly-laughed.

“They have weird faces!” Phil excused. “Why do they have to be so  _ long _ ?”

“Don’t shame horses for things they can’t change about themselves.”

“Fuck the horses, they can’t hear me,” Phil exclaimed.

“ _ Aggressive _ ,” Dan said. “And you still didn’t really answer my question.”

Phil rolled his eyes fondly. “Well, it  _ would  _ be kinda fun to call you my boyfriend.”

“You sound so enthused,” Dan said.

“Then what about you, Mr. Don’t-Shit-on-Horses-Because-They-Have-Horse-Faces?”

“If  _ anything _ , my new title is Mr. Boyfriend,” Dan offered proudly.

“I think you’re more of a Mr. Girlfriend.”

“I  _ don’t  _ moan like a pornstar!” Dan defended.

“You won’t for long unless you just accept it, Dan,” Phil mock-threatened.

“ _ Fuck _ , fine! Just like, stop calling me out like that,  _ especially  _ when I’m wearing  _ your _ underwear.”

“ _ You’re _ the one who put them on. You could even just stop wearing underwear altogether now,” Phil offered with a cheeky grin.

“I’m taking a shower,” Dan huffed and stood, forcing himself to get out of Phil’s space. 

Phil grabbed Dan’s wrist, making him stop. “No invite for me?” he frowned, sitting up.

“I’d like to actually get something  _ done  _ in there, thanks.”

“Your loss, then.”

“Whatever you say.”

Dan tried to shower a quickly as he could, discovering how much he disliked being away from Phil any longer than he could help it. He shuffled through the living room with a towel held around his waist to his room, Phil eyeing him the whole was across the lounge. They weren’t quite there yet, but they would be. Saying  _ his room _ felt pointless now, seeing as how he’d probably be in Phil’s bed now. Maybe they could make something more useful out of it; they would figure it out later.

He pulled a pair of underwear, some sweatpants, and a plain t-shirt out of his drawers. He caught another glance at himself in his own mirror, having ignored it through the fog in the bathroom. Dan hoped the marks on his neck would be faded by Monday, but Phil would probably be refreshing those marks every day until then. Dan didn’t think he minded; in fact, the thought of it was kind of exciting. All these people who only saw Dan as some quiet, smart kid, suddenly seeing him covered in hickies. He amused himself with their reactions, pulling at his neck with his fingers as he examined the skin. There was a short knock on his door before it opened.

“Look at what you did to my  _ neck _ , Jesus, Phil,” Dan said, eyes moving between his reflection and Phil as he entered.

“My finest artistic accomplishment,” Phil remarked, moving behind Dan. “And it’s not like you didn’t do the same thing to mine,” Dan half-expected Phil to try and start another  _ escapade  _ of theirs, but he instead just pulled Dan by his waist into himself, resting his chin on Dan’s shoulder the same way Dan had earlier. “Movie day?”

“We have a whole weekend to ourselves and you still just wanna watch movies?”

“We’re not even halfway through my list yet,” Phil pleaded.

“You’ll be the death of me, you know?” Dan resigned, looking at Phil’s eyes through the mirror.

“Good.”

“What films are you thinking of?”

“Ones we don’t have to pay attention to,” and  _ there  _ was the Phil that Dan was expecting, but he had to admit, he didn’t hate it.

“Are we ever just gonna  _ watch  _ movies again?” Dan craned his neck as he laughed, Phil apparently having found a spot to create yet another  _ masterpiece  _ on.

“After the honeymoon phase,” Phil mumbled into his neck.

“Oh, so we’re at-” Dan took in a sharp breath, “that phase now?” He pushed his shoulders up under Phi’s touch, “Stop that just- ah- tickles,” his face contorted as he tried to escape the touch.

“I bet this does, too,” Phil pulled his head away, giving Dan a second to breathe before running his fingers all over Dan’s torso, making him double over. Dan gasped out pleas for Phil to stop in between his giggles.

“Phil this is- stop it-  _ evil _ !” Dan finally broke himself free from Phil’s attack, only to find himself pulled back in again. “ _ Phil! _ ” he whined. “I’m gonna knock one of your teeth out if you don’t- fucking- stop!”

Phil’s hands seized where they were over his ribs, instead holding his fingers in between the divets of the bones. They both look up at themselves in the mirror, matching purple-splotched necks and dopey lovestruck grins. 

“You should leave your hair curly more,” Phil pulled at one of the wet ringlets.

“Maybe one day,” Dan mused. “But right now we have some movies to  _ not _ watch.”

“A whole weekend’s worth, even,” Phil teased, hands threatening to run over Dan’s ribs again.

“If you stop trying to tickle me to death, you git,” Dan tried to squirm away from the touch, Phil tightening his grip on the bone.

“No promises,” Phil said, “I like seeing you laugh.”


	24. ch. 24

Dan always used to hate Sundays. He hated being forced to wear shirts with the buttons done all the way up to the collar, but not nearly as much as he hated how uncomfortable church pews were. Sundays with Phil were always nice and quiet, and Dan would gladly go to hell if it meant not spending a single Sunday in church ever again — among other reasons. They’d fallen asleep on the sofa last night somewhere between two episodes of  _ Friends _ . He arched his back to stretch and checked the time. 1:14pm. Phil began to stir in the tight space behind Dan, removing his arm from where it rested across Dan’s waist with a yawn.

“Up for coffee?” Dan asked, poking his elbow back into Phil’s stomach.

“Wanna,” Phil mumbled into Dan’s hair, “actually wake up first.”

Dan shifted around onto his back, eyes now level with Phil’s. “But I’m hungry and it’s very tempting to stay like this forever.”

“Is that a challenge?” Phil teased.

“It’s a ‘get your ass up and take me out for coffee,’” Dan replied, forcing himself up.

“Pushy,” Phil said, pushing himself up from the sofa; Dan tried not to let himself get too distracted by the sight.

“Can’t move any faster, old man?” Dan tugged on the back of Phil’s shirt.

“I’m 23 and you’re not nice,” Phil nearly lost his balance when Dan let go of the fabric.

“When the fuck did you turn 23?” Dan asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“End of January,” Phil said plainly. “When we-”

“Oh,” Dan said; neither of them wanted to hash that out again. “What day?”

“30th.”

“Oh,” Dan remembered all the things they still didn’t know about each other, even when it felt like there was nothing left to learn sometimes.

“When’s yours?” Phil asked. It felt stupid to be asking these questions  _ now _ when they felt like the kind of things discussed on first dates. Then again, they hadn’t really decided the terms of any of this, nor did they feel like any of their routine had to change because of it. This was just the natural order of things.

“June 11th,” Dan answered when he realized he hadn’t yet. “Late birthday, so I’m still 18.”

“I feel like we should’ve talked about that already.”

“There’s a lot we haven’t talked about yet,” Dan said, almost ashamed of the fact. “The kinda stuff people talk about on dates, I guess.”

Phil’s back stiffened with the same realization. “I guess we haven’t done that yet, either.”

“We can start calling them actual coffee dates now,” Dan said with an awkward chuckle.

“I’m just gonna look up generic first date questions and we can have a rapid-fire Q-and-A,” Phil smiled. Dan let himself relax again.

“Or that 36-question psychology test thing,” Dan added with a grin.

“That what?” Phil laughed, eyes crinkled.

“It’s like this weird questionnaire that’s supposed to make people fall in love with each other or something,” Dan shrugged.

“And we’re supposed to prove or disprove it for ourselves, then?”

Dan laughed nervously, unsure how Phil wanted him to read into that. The thought pushed his heart into his throat. “Buy a girl a drink first,” he played it off with a joke; Dan didn’t know if he was ready for that yet, no matter how strong the flutter in his stomach was growing.

“I’d much rather buy a boy coffee,” Phil said, grabbing Dan’s wrist and tugging at it slightly.

Now that — Dan could work with that.

He couldn’t keep still in the passenger seat, legs bouncing and fingers tapping. All they were doing was going out for coffee, the same as they’d done for as long as they’d known each other and even after they were decidedly more than friends. Why should this feel any different? Why did calling it a date make it feel any different? It already felt so easy for Dan to slip into the mindset of calling Phil home without them even deciding what this was yet.

Strangers to friends to… whatever it was that came after. They’d joked about what they were supposed to be calling this now, but that didn’t make any of it true. Facing this kind of feeling was new and foreign to Dan. Something about being with Phil like this just made sense, and Dan wasn’t in the business of explaining it to death.

This would be Dan’s first date, ever. The thought gave his heart an extra kick. With a boy, no less, although that didn’t feel as important to him. That only ever mattered to his parents, and their disapprovals weren’t exactly at the forefront of his mind.

It was just new. And strange. And unlike anything Dan had ever felt before. He couldn’t even imagine what Phil was feeling, if he even felt a  _ fraction _ of what Dan was feeling. It felt stupid to be so nervous, considering how the past weekend had gone.

“You alright?” Phil asked with a nervous edge. 

Dan tore his stare away from the window and tried to ground himself: “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Just… feels weird,” Dan admitted. He watched his hands as they played with the sleeves of his jacket. “Like getting to know each other all over again.”

“I don’t think you ever stop getting to know someone,” Phil said, and the thought was comforting. “I could be on my deathbed and still be telling you things I’ve never mentioned before.”

“I guess,” Dan mumbled. It was hard to look at Phil, and he didn’t want it to be. “It feels like it changes everything.”

“It doesn’t have to.”

“Yeah.”

“We can just go out for coffee, like we always do,” Phil suggested. “Doesn’t have to be anything special if it feels weird.”

“I guess not,” Dan agreed, even though he really wanted it to be special. He wanted the thought of this being a date to make him more excited than scared. Things went faster, then they slowed down, then they went faster again, and Dan just wished things would pick a consistent pace and let him catch his breath for a moment. 

It was still a date, whether they called it that or not. It wasn’t just two friends getting coffee anymore, nor would it ever be that again. Dan was trying to figure out if he was ready for that yet. Two boys, who liked each other and knew it, having coffee together.

They liked each other and they knew it, and Dan kept reminding himself of the fact until the car was parked.

“I want it to be,” Dan said to no one in particular.

“Want what to be what?” Phil asked, turning off the ignition.

“I want this to be a date,” Dan answered. He looked up at Phil finally, almost desperately.

“Okay,” Phil said. He opened his own door, standing outside of it and waiting for Dan to get out from the passenger seat. Dan took his time in steadying his own breaths before he climbed out, eyes meeting Phil’s above the roof of the car. Phil looked as nervous as Dan felt, so at least Dan was in good company. 

He wasn’t sure who was supposed to move first, each of them starting and stopping at the same times. The breathy chuckles at themselves weren’t doing much to calm Dan’s nerves. He managed to draw up enough courage to move around the front of the car, meeting Phil at the curb. 

Dan suddenly very aware of how public this was — not just some understood little thing between them anymore. He wondered how many strangers had suspected them before now, how many people had seen what was between them before they ever saw it for themselves.

They couldn’t hold hands yet, Dan figured, even if it sounded nice to do.  _ Eventually _ , he told himself. He tucked his hands into his pockets and looked at Phil, their nervous laughter now a little more at ease. Phil led the way, holding the door open the same way he always did. Dan mumbled his same thanks and held their place in line as he waited for Phil, who kept holding the door for another two people who walked in. Not much older than the two of them, arms linked in bundles of wool and fleece.  _ Eventually. _

Dan looked to their usual corner, thankful it was unoccupied and hoping that it would stay that way until they made their way to it. A subtle grounding that things really didn’t have to change because of this, because of this weekend, because of the kissing and the touching and the admittances of things Dan didn’t realize were in him in the first place.

Same feelings with different names.

Phil was the same person he wanted to tell the entire universe to.

Dan took his hands out of his pockets and rubbed them together, gathering the warmth on his palms.

Phil ordered for the two of them and snuck their usual orders onto the same ticket, paying before Dan could make move to protest. He gave Dan a knowing glance and a polite smirk, and Dan wanted to do a little more than smack it off his face.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Dan whispered, leaning into Phil’s space slightly as they walked.

“I wanted to,” Phil replied. He sat down in his usual seat and looked up at Dan, nodding his head down to Dan’s usual seat. Dan blew a deep sigh out of his nose and sat down, quick to make himself comfortable in the resignation.

“I’m not gonna let you  _ not _ let me pay you back,” Dan argued. “I still haven’t even paid you back from the  _ first  _ time you bought me coffee.”

“In  _ October _ ? Just buy next time then,” Phil suggested, his voice a hopeful reminder of all the next times to come.

“Might want pizza next time,” Dan said. “Maybe I’ll feel a bit spontaneous.”

“How am I supposed to beat pizza?”

“You’ll find a way,” Dan teased. Their air was quiet for a moment before they laughed, tension subsiding. Dan reminded himself to let his shoulder relax a bit; nothing had to change as long as they didn’t let it. Two boys who told each other stories of the universe, with or without the kisses.

The orders came quickly, both of them eager to tear into their lunch. Before Dan knew it, they were easily back to talking with their mouths full. Phil had pulled of a list of first-date questions on his phone, reading off questions between bites.

“What music artist do you never get tired of?” Phil read off, voice mumbled as he chewed.

“Muse,” Dan answered obviously.

“Doesn’t count if I know who they are,” Phil argued.

“We have like, the same taste, Phil,” Dan poked back. He took a bite and spoke, “I could name ten different artists and you listen to all of them.”

“Then name the eleventh that I don’t listen to.”

Dan threw his head back and groaned, eyebrows furrowed as he ran through catalogues of music in his head. “Uh, Arcade Fire?”

“Obviously.”

Dan thought again, “Broken Social Scene?”

“Yep.”

“Fuck,” Dan grumbled. He leaned back forward and scrolled through his phone, “The Magnetic Fields?”

“Actually… yeah,” Phil teased, making Dan shoot him a squinted glare.

“Jesus Christ,” he scrolled more through his phone, “Kanye?”

Phil grimaced. “ _ Kanye? _ ”

“Got one!” Dan shouted, curling into his seat when he felt the searing judgement of strangers on his skin, not excluding Phil’s. “Don’t judge me,” he said, quieter this time. “What about you?”

“Ok Go,” Phil said easily.

“Who the fuck are they?” Dan asked.

“I’ll show you later,” Phil said, and Dan took it as a promise. He grinned and looked back to his phone, scrolling a bit before settling on a question, “What would your perfect morning be like?”

Dan rolled his eyes and looked to Phil, who knew just as well as Dan did how Dan was supposed to answer that question. He answered anyway, “Sleeping in until at  _ least  _ noon, eating as much as I want for breakfast, and still spending the rest of the day in bed watching movies.”

“Anyone you may, uh, want with you?” Phil egged, nudging at Dan with his elbow.

“I heard Queen Elizabeth makes a mean crepe,” Dan said.

“She’s like 90,” Phil argued.

“Which means she’s had literal  _ decades _ to master it!” Dan exclaimed, more mindful of his volume.

“Can’t believe you’d pick the Queen over me,” Phil pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. It was tempting to lean over — just for a moment, when he was sure no one was looking — and steal just one kiss, but Dan still wasn’t ready to risk that just yet. Sometimes, it was nice just keeping things to himself. 

Rather, he leaned in closer to Phil, just enough for his breath to become present on Phil’s skin as he said under his breath, “Wouldn’t dream of it.” The shiver it garnered from Phil made it worth the secrecy.

“Not fair,” Phil whined, straightening his posture back out.

“You still have to answer the question,” Dan said pointedly.

“Same answer.”

“And you were judging  _ me _ for Queen Elizabeth? Rude,” Dan huffed, crossing his arms and angling himself away. 

He felt Phil move to occupy the space next to his ear before he spoke: “Maybe I’m substituting her for a certain boy in first-year wearing nothing but his pants.” 

Now, it was Dan’s turn to shiver, “That was,” he took a shaky breath, “uncalled for.” Dan reminded himself that they were in public, easily misled by the bubble that encapsulated their shared little world, and straightened his back. Phil sat back and cleared his throat, obviously with more questions in store.

“What’s your favorite color?” Phil asked, softer than the previous ones.

Dan furrowed his eyebrows. “This is turning into a shitty question list,” he said incredulously.

“It’s not on the question list. What’s your favorite color?” Phil defended, “And what made it your favorite color?”

Dan sat up in his seat, taken aback by the question, head tilted in confusion as he thought of an answer. “Green,” he said definitively. “I like looking at the way trees move, it reminds me to breathe sometimes.”

“Mine’s orange,” Phil added; Dan’s breath caught in his throat, “‘Cause I like the way the leaves look when they change colors.” Dan couldn’t help but laugh to himself, unable to hide a disbelieving grin. 

“What’s funny?” Phil asked, confused.

“Nothing,” Dan smiled smugly, “Just reminded me of something.”

He’d tell Phil about the little coincidence one day, about how perfectly Phil’s favorite color lined up with his own deeply-held convictions.  _ How could anyone ever hate the color orange?  _

The small-talk questions went on mindlessly, the noise around them growing and shrinking as people came and went. No one paid too much mind to the two of them, and Dan wanted to keep it that way. He could very easily be lured into staying here like this as long as eternity would allow it, even as his body began aching the longer he sat in his chair. His coffee was long forgotten, albeit still half-drank. There were better things to attend to than cups of coffee. 

Everything around them dwindled until their only company was employees waiting to go home. A lull in their conversation made Dan look up, quickly feeling very self-conscious of the space he occupied. He checked the time. 4:58pm.

He knew they closed at five and wondered how time managed to slip away so easily.

“Wanna head back home?” Dan asked, the last word settling funnily on his tongue. He’d never called any place other than the house he grew up in his home, yet it felt so obvious to call Phil’s apartment as such.

“We can,” Phil said decidedly, a much-needed cutoff of Dan’s train of thought, “watch a movie or something.”

“Yeah,” Dan smiled. “Got anything in mind?”

“Depends on how much attention we plan on actually  _ giving  _ the movie,” Phil teased, and Dan felt his skin flash pink. “C’mon,” Phil nudged at Dan’s knee before standing, “Let’s go home.”


	25. ch. 25

The time passed quickly in fragments of skin and movies neither of them cared to pay any mind to. It was nice like this, existing with each other without worrying about anyone else’s prying eyes. In this space, Dan didn’t owe anything to the world. No expectations, no obligations, just two boys with lips that kiss and fingers that touch and words that are spoken just to be heard in return.

Dan couldn’t quite remember the transition from sofa to bed that occured at some point between last night and this morning, but he wouldn’t put it past either of them to get tired of being cramped together on the sofa. An alarm woke him up, but Phil was a heavy sleeper. Dan rolled over and fumbled for whichever phone was going off on the nightstand, checking the time. 6:55am. He smiled stupidly to himself, rolling back over toward the center of the bed. He faced Phil’s back, eyes running over the way Phil’s hair fell and his back creased into the mattress. This moment, this person, was  _ his _ . Today and tomorrow and whatever days came after that, if he were so lucky. All labels and names did was make it hard to exist outside of them, and Dan knew that for certain. Being trapped in the smart-box was the worst decision anyone could ever make for him, and he wasn’t so naive to let it happen again.

Just two boys. The simplest thing they could possibly be.

Phil began to stir a few moments later, rolling onto his back as he stretched. He looked at Dan with tired eyes and grinned.

“I have an 8am class,” Dan said quietly. He curled in closer to Phil, not wanting to leave the warmth of their shared space. “That I really don’t wanna go to but know I have to.”

“You don’t  _ have _ to,” Phil coaxed, closing more of the space between them.

“Don’t you have one, too?” Dan reminded him, careful not to be drawn so easily into the trap.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I have to  _ go _ ,” Phil drew Dan in, arms tight around the small of his back.

“Phil,” Dan reprimanded, “We need to go to class.”

“But I’m so  _ comfortable _ ,” Phil whined.

It took every ounce of willpower Dan could muster up for him to pry himself out of Phil’s grasp. He stumbled a bit as he rolled out of bed, catching himself on the nightstand: “I’m all yours at 2:30.”

“And I’m supposed to deal with not seeing you until then?” Phil sat up and swung around to the edge of the bed, sitting there and stretching again.

“Exactly,” Dan said, stealing a kiss at the corner of Phil’s mouth before rushing to the door. “And I call shower first,” he darted out of the room, stowing away in the bathroom and turning the water on.  _ Just seven hours _ , he reminded himself. He got into the shower a with an early eagerness, the cool water making him wince.  _ Seven hours _ .

Dan didn’t like being approximately 17 minutes late to his first class of the day, but he couldn’t exactly tell people it was because he was making out with a cute boy in said cute boy’s car and had to wait for his face to be less pink before he would even consider stepping out of the car. The rest of the day was a waiting game Dan had to sit through in nervous anticipation. He watched people walk around with flowers and other gifts from their own boyfriends and girlfriends, sighing to himself. 

Things weren’t quite there yet, but they would get their at their own pace. 

He wondered how Phil was faring on his own today, watching the same types of people Dan had seen all day. A part of him wanted to hear from Phil, just a little text about something random he’d seen, but they never really did that anyway. It was much easier to save their stories for the ride back home, or the sofa or the bed or the kitchen table. Dan knew he had to be patient to hear Phil tell today’s stories in all their Phil-recounted glory.

Dan’s legs bounced under his desk as he watched the clock on the wall across from him. Just ten more minutes, and he was free to Phil. He spent every agonizing second darting his eyes between the ticking second hand and his hands as they twisted his pen around between his fingers.

He’d never been so relieved to hear Professor Lester call for dismissal. Everyone around Dan stood and left, leaving him and a few slower students as he gathered his things. Phil still had to make his way across campus to meet Dan outside the law building, so he wasn’t really in any rush. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, checking for a message from Phil — another nervous habit. More energy in his fingertips than he knew what to do with, just ready to find purchase on someone else’s skin.

“Daniel,” a familiar voice called. Dan closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose; he  _ really _ didn’t feel like talking today. Didn’t even  _ need  _ to anymore.

“Yes, Professor?” Dan turned around.

“Would you come over here for a moment? I wanted to talk to you for a moment about something.”

Dan pulled his backpack over his shoulders and walked over to Professor Lester’s desk, hands gripping tightly on the straps.

“I just wanted to see how you’ve been doing recently,” he began. “You haven’t been staying after class, so I’d assume things are going well for you now, but then again, I don’t want to be too presumptuous-”

“Yes, I’m fine, sir,” Dan reassured. “Things have been going really well. He thought of Phil and hoped he wasn’t blushing, wondering if Phil had even mentioned them  _ living _ together.

“ _ Good _ ! That’s very good. I’m glad to hear that, Daniel,” Professor Lester gave that same welcoming grin. “Still, if you ever run into any issues, I’m always available to-” A phone vibrated; Dan instinctually reached for his pocket.

“Oh, that’s mine,” Professor Lester pulled his phone out of his pocket, raising his eyebrows in amusement at the screen. “Although I’m fairly certain this message  _ wasn’t _ meant for me.” He extended the phone out to Dan.

**_-Daaaaaaannnnnn where are you? I’ve been outside for like three days now and I have plans for tonight ;)_ **

**_-Pls I’m turning into a skeleton and I don’t think you want that_ **

Embarrassed wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the feeling of blood both pooling into Dan’s feet and rushing to his head at that same time. His own phone buzzed against his thigh.

**_-Okay don’t panic but I just sent a text to my dad instead of you and it’s teetering on the edge of PG-13_ **

**_-I hope you’re not in his room or I’ll have to start preparing for your funeral_ **

Dan’s mouth moved without a sound. 

Professor Lester snickered. “Now, I’m not really one to pry too much into my son’s business, but do tell him to double-check when he’s sending messages.” 

And just when Dan thought it couldn’t get any worse, Professor Lester  _ winked _ . Badly.

“Bye,” Dan sputtered, making a bee-line to the door.

“I’m just happy you two found-” the door closed on Professor Lester’s voice, Dan soaking in red.

Phil was leaning against one of the columns outside. He pulled himself off as Dan pushed through the doors, face still warm against the cold February air.

“That was the  _ worst  _ experience of my life!” Dan huffed, running down the stairs. Phil jogged to catch up.

“In fairness, I almost sent something worse but deleted it,” Phil tugged on the top loop of Dan’s backpack, slowing Dan in line with Phil.

“That’s  _ not  _ helpful, Phil,” Dan groaned. Phil snickered the same way his dad had.

“Have you even told him we  _ live _ together yet?” Dan asked, shoulders brushing against Phil’s as they walked.

“Um, it may have slipped my mind,” Phil brought a hand through his hair.

“You’re absolutely horrible,” Dan remarked. 

“Might wanna rethink that when you hear the master plans I have tonight,” Phil nudged Dan’s shoulder.

“You’re just making it worse!”

“You’ll get over it in an hour, promise,” Phil quirked his eyebrows, badly.

“You know how stupid you look when you do that.”

“Being annoyed at me now isn’t gonna get you anywhere later.”

“Just please for the love of  _ god  _ make sure you never do that again.”

“No promises,” Phil said. “It’s kinda funny seeing you all flustered.”

“Oh fuck off,” Dan groaned.

“Won’t be saying that in an hour,” Phil winked.

“You’re the  _ worst! _ ” Dan groaned. “And your dad’s never gonna let me live this down.”

Dan soon got over his embarrassment, although not without the help of Phil’s touch. Not that Phil would ever let Dan forget about this either. In fact, he’d probably bring it up for years to come, assuming they lasted that long — Dan didn’t see why they wouldn’t. Dan wondered how Phil so easily brushed it off when Dan had never been more red-faced, so he asked, both of them pulling their shirts back on against the cold that infiltrated the room. 

“You haven’t like, done that  _ before _ , have you?” Dan was nervous to hear Phil’s response and wondered if this was what true jealousy felt like. “Like, with other people?”

“No, but it’s just not really a big deal,” Phil shrugged, moving to his desk. Back to whatever film project he was working on now, Dan figured. He’d be hearing more about it in the coming days, the same way Phil always turned to Dan over any of his peers for opinions. 

“ _ Not a big deal? _ ” Dan asked, eyes wide at the back of Phil’s head. “God, if I ever sent my parents anything like that I’d be fucking  _ humiliated _ ! I don’t think I can ever look your dad in the eye again.”

“It’s way easier to just laugh it off, I think,” Phil reasoned, amused. 

Dan huffed through his nose, feeling defeated. “ _ Laughing it off _ hasn’t really ever been an option for me, Philip.”

Phil’s expression dropped in his realization. “Sorry. My family’s just never really like,  _ hid _ stuff from each other. And I never really made a big deal about liking guys or whatever.” That  _ or whatever _ stung more than Dan wanted to admit. He envied the total nonchalance Phil had about this. Phil didn’t overthink things the way Dan did, but Dan was trying to unlearn such bad habits.

“Must be nice,” Dan grumbled, flopping down onto the bed with a huff. A part of him wanted the melodrama to draw Phil back in.

“Hey,” Phil turned in his chair, moving back over to the bed. “I’m sorry,” he laid down, body half on top of Dan; Dan liked the weight.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, in  _ any _ of this,” Dan sighed. He turned his head to Phil. “Y’know?”

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t really know what I’m doing either.”

“What? So we’re both just taking a shot in the dark?” Dan wanted Phil to help clear up the fuzzy edges of everything.

“I wouldn’t put it like  _ that _ ,” Phil said. “Just thought it might make you feel better.”

“You have like,  _ years _ of experience in this kinda stuff compared to me,” Dan argued. “I’m a blushing fucking virgin.”

“And what makes you think I’m not?”

“ _ Literally _ everything about you,” Dan rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky I haven’t put too much thought into why you’d even like me in the first place.” The words stung a little as they slipped out.

“Then I guess you’ll be surprised to know that I’m a  _ blushing fucking virgin _ , too,” Phil jabbed, ignoring the last bit from Dan; that stung a little bit, too. 

Dan sat up on his elbows, knocking Phil off onto his side, “There’s no way.”

“Swear to God,” Phil said, placing a hand to his chest. “The worst I’ve ever done is make out with someone on a dare my first year of uni.” He moved his own face closer to Dan’s. “And for the record, I like you ‘cause you’re  _ you _ , Dan.”

Dan tucked his lips into a shy grin, tucking his chin into his chest. “Yeah?”

“Every reason you can think of,” Phil said, punctuating it with a small kiss on Dan’s temple, “Promise,” the words muffled against Dan’s skin, tickling next to his eye. 

Phil pulled back and Dan squinted, a little giddy and growing curious. “So how many people  _ have _ you kissed?”

“Approximately three,” Phil said and held up his fingers. “But one of them was an accident — long story — so I don’t know if it counts.”

“So why haven’t you done anything?” Dan asked, now sitting up off the bed. He knew the excuses for his own inexperience, but Phil’s was unexpected.

“Kinda ruins things when your first kiss kills himself, doesn’t it?” Phil answered candidly, as if there were no lighter way to put it.

“Did- was he-  _ fuck _ , I don’t know- you know what I’m asking,” Dan fumbled; he didn’t mean to make Phil bring this up. The guilt took over the jealousy and made his chest ache.

“Joke’s on me crushing on the straight guy, I guess,” Phil mumbled. “Things were just different after that. I know we both tried for them not to be, but I really just messed it all up.”

“You didn’t,” Dan said, trying to find reassurances, “you didn’t mess it all up. Stuff gets complicated, right? You can’t help that, Phil.”

“I know I can’t,” Phil sighed, falling back into the bed, “but I beat myself up for wondering sometimes if I had anything to do with it. Maybe he wasn’t what he said he was, you know? It definitely wouldn’t have surprised me with the way his parents were.” He stared up at the ceiling.

“It’s not your fault,” Dan said. He laid back down beside Phil. “You didn’t know.”

“But I  _ should  _ have,” Phil closed his eyes, taking a deep breath through his nose. “I should have.”

Dan didn’t know what to do at this point. He felt bad enough for what he started, and now the guilt of making Phil remember the hurt was eating at Dan’s insides. What did he have to offer as consolation?

“Did I ever tell you about that poem I wrote?” Dan asked.

Phil turned his head and looked at Dan. “No?”

“It was after you called me that night you came back,” Dan said quietly.

“I’m glad you wrote something,” Phil gave a small smile; Dan wasn’t sure if this was helping, but maybe a little more might.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, putting a small kiss on Phil’s nose before rolling off the bed. He dashed to his room — his  _ old _ room — quickly, finding what he needed exactly where he left it when he wrote it. His eyes ran over the attempts at smoothing out the wrinkles and the ink smudges from where his hand dragged across the fresh ink; he picked it up and folded it in half neatly, treading carefully with it back to Phil’s room. He closed the door softly behind him.

“Is that it?” Phil asked earnestly, sitting up on his elbows.

“Can I read it?” Dan asked in response. He nervously dragged his fingernails along the folded edge, smoothing out the crease.

“Hang on,” Phil sat up and reached over for his phone on the nightstand. Dan didn’t move; Phil motioned him to come closer, and he did, sitting on the edge of the bed at Phil’s feet. “This is gonna sound weird but would you- do you mind if I record it?”

Dan felt a plan hiding in Phil’s sleeve and smirked, nodding as his unfolded the paper. He heard the blip of the recording beginning and cleared his throat, smiling at Phil before he spoke.


	26. ch. 26

Dan thought it would be more uncomfortable to wake up tangled into someone than it actually was, but maybe he was biased. It still felt a little crazy to be waking up next to another person every day, but Dan wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to sleep alone again, easily spoiled by the comfort.

Neither of them had any classes until after noon, which gave them however much time they had between now and then to just be together — as long as he could get Phil to wake up. He stretched over Phil and grabbed at one of the phones on the nightstand. 9:24am. His paper from last night sat neated folded under the other phone, and Dan grinned at the memory. He was glad that Phil had liked it, almost enough that Dan would probably write more things like it until his hands fell off, all for Phil.

Dan sat the phone back down and moved back, folding his arms under his chin and resting them down on Phil’s chest. He couldn’t remember how late they ended up going to bed last night, but that they were talking together in the dark, and then they weren’t. 

But for now, Dan was back to playing the waiting game. It was hard to be patient, laying idly as time escaped them. If he weren’t careful, they wouldn’t have enough time for breakfast and a show. He blew a puff of air at Phil’s nose, smirking at the way his face scrunched against it. He did again, then once more, stopping when Phil began blinking himself awake. Phil blew back at Dan’s face, making Dan squint.

“Well good morning, then,” Phil mumbled; he brought the hand on his free side up to rub his eyes.

“We’ve got a bit of time before class, if you wanted to have breakfast,” Dan said.

“I always wanna have breakfast,” Phil yawned and craned his head down to kiss the end of Dan’s eyebrow. “Pancakes?”

“If we have enough stuff for it,” Dan sat up, stretching his arms behind his head.

“Make ‘em while I get a shower?” Phil asked.

“As you wish,” Dan agreed.

“Have I shown you that movie yet?” Phil sat up on the edge and reached for his phone.

“What movie?”

“ _ The Princess Bride _ .”

“Don’t think so.”

“Then we’re watching it,” Phil decided. Dan felt the weight of the bed shift as Phil stood, watching as he left the room. He stood up a moment later, grabbing his phone from the nightstand before he walked out. The shower was already running by the time he got to the kitchen, muffled through the bathroom door. Something about the sound was comforting, thought Dan couldn’t quite pinpoint how — maybe just the simple idea of how they exist together.

He opened and closed all of the cupboards in the kitchen without thinking about what he was looking for, more so just an act of familiarizing himself with the space he inhabited (as if he hadn’t lived here for a month and a half now).

Things just felt newer around him now. Making pancakes for a boy who wasn’t just a friend anymore. At least, Dan didn’t think they were anymore. Nothing was quite set in stone yet, but Dan didn’t want to find out if he was wrong any time soon. Ignorance was bliss, and now he understood why people felt that way sometimes.

He closed the last cupboard with a particularly loud slam, pulling Dan out of himself. He remembered what he was supposed to be doing —  _ pancakes, _ he said to himself — and went to the cupboard he was pretty sure had pots and pans in it. The clank the pans made when Dan pulled one out made his ears ring; he couldn’t for the life of him remember which cupboard the bowls were in, or what ingredients went into pancakes. Did they even have flour?

Dan held the cupboard open, running his eyes through its contents over and over again, the sound of a door opening drawing his attention away. Phil gave him a confused look, one towel around his waist and one over his shoulders, but Dan wasn’t thinking about that.

“I can’t find the flour,” Dan said; shouldn’t he have known where it was?

“It’s over here,” Phil said before moving to a cupboard on the opposite side of the kitchen. He opened the door and pulled down a bag from the shelf, unfolding the top and holding it up closer to his face, “But I don’t think it’s any good.”

Dan furrowed his eyebrows at Phil. “How can you tell?”

“Smells off,” Phil answered, “You can taste it, too, but I don’t think I want to  _ willingly  _ taste bad flour.”

“How do you know that kinda stuff?”

Phil rolled up the top of the bag and left it on the counter, closing the cupboard. “I used to bake with my mum a lot when I was younger. I’d probably still remember some of the recipes if I tried hard enough.”

“That kinda sounds nice,” Dan chuckled, with little conviction in how it was supposed to be funny. He leaned back on the counter, a strange feeling washing over him.

“Don’t tell her that,” Phil began, “or she’ll be shoving cake recipes down your throat for the rest of your life.” It was meant to be a joke, Dan knew, but he still wanted that — wanted a mum that he baked chocolate chip cookies with just for fun. He wanted to know the recipes and be able to make them himself when he felt homesick.

But Dan felt homesick his entire life.

He’d forgotten the feeling here, until now.

“We can just have cereal, then,” Phil moved away from the counter and the bag of old flour that now sat on it. “And go grocery shopping after school or something.”

“Yeah,” Dan replied, Phil leaving him alone in the kitchen to go get dressed. He wondered why it was so easy to start feeling so empty after feeling so full, then he wondered why he couldn’t have the type of mum he baked with when he was younger.

Dan pushed himself away from the counter and pulled a bowl from one of the cupboards — at least he knew where they were. Cereal, he could do that. Even if he wasn’t that hungry. He didn’t bother pouring a bowl for Phil and sat on the sofa, curling into his usual corner with the bowl nestled in the space between his knees and chest. He stirred around at the bowl, stopping only when he heard Phil coming out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. The sofa shifted under Dan as Phil added his own weight. He focused on the motions of the television display coming on and shifting as Phil found the movie he wanted them to watch, trying to find his way back to the feeling he wanted to make a home in.

“You alright?” Phil asked. Dan’s head jerked slightly, turning to Phil and then looking down at the bowl in his lap — soggy.

“Just… feel weird today,” Dan mumbled, the same excuse growing tired and thin in his mouth, but he couldn’t think of a better way to explain it. He sat the bowl down on the coffee table and drew back into himself.

“You seemed alright this morning,” Phil noted, and Dan knew he was right. “What’s up?” Phil sat his own bowl on the coffee table and shifted closer to Dan.

It was always so hard to keep the truth away from Phil.

“What are we  _ doing _ ?” Dan asked, nearly a whisper.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, what are we calling this now?” the question felt stupid as soon as it had left Dan’s mouth; he wanted to swallow it back up and keep it held in his chest.

“Well,” Phil moved close enough that his and Dan’s shoulders pressed together, “we’re best friends who sleep in the same bed and go on dates and kiss each other and do other things that are maybe just a  _ little _ bit more than friendly gestures,” Phil shoved against Dan’s shoulder, who struggled to hide a bashful grin in his knees, “which I’d imagine is enough to call this dating.”

Dan let out the tension in his shoulders; Phil was always good at knowing when he just needed reassurance. Any doubts he found himself covered in began to dissolve, and he didn’t feel so stupid about equating Phil to home anymore. This was the feeling he belonged in. 

Soon enough, Dan was sure he’d know every inch of Phil and his apartment like the back of his hand. He’d know where the flour was, and it wouldn’t be expired, so they could bake things and throw flour bombs at each other’s clothes and sputter when they tasted the residue on each other’s cheeks. Phil’s mum would pass down her old recipe books and pester them about which ones they’d tried out and scold them when they answered with none.

“We can just sit here for a little while, if you want,” Phil offered; he put his arm over the back of the sofa, and Dan let himself sink into the new space it provided, “until we have to leave. Watch the movie after class or something.”

“Yeah,” Dan agreed. “Just wanna sit here with my…” he trailed off, unsure of the word that wanted to fall off his tongue.

“Boyfriend,” Phil said, a smile on his voice. “You can say boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend,” Dan repeated, letting the word settle in his mouth and the air around it as he decided on what it felt like. 

Good, he decided. It felt good.

Good that Dan could sit here with Phil who he could now call his boyfriend and not feel stupid about how easy it was to fall into the routine of calling it home. Good that they would get ready to leave together and steal kisses in the car until the very last minute and spend every second apart waiting for the next one they would be together in. Good that they would come back to the apartment and watch  _ The Princess Bride  _ and settle into each other’s arms like it was all they were made for doing.

Good that not only did he belong somewhere, but  _ to _ someone.


	27. ch. 27

The rest of the week was exhausting. Specifically, university was exhausting, the same as it always was, but Dan was comforted by the thought of having someone to come home to. He wondered if anyone noticed anything different about him, aside from the hickies he made little effort at hiding. Dan wasn’t sure what he wanted more — to proclaim his happiness in another person loud enough that the other side of the universe could hear it, or to hold it all tight to his chest like a secret to keep it pure and untarnished. Feeling either way was new, especially about a person. About a  _ boy _ .

His parents would never know, but they didn’t deserve to. Maybe he could’ve told them one day, had things been different.

But things were what they were, and this was a part of Dan’s life they’d never get to see.

They didn’t matter anymore, anyway. At least, that’s what Dan was trying to tell himself. The concept and the execution were two  _ very  _ different things, he’d learned.

Law remained as insufferable as ever, Dan constantly reminding himself that it was only a few more months before he was free from its clutches and onto better things. What those things  _ were _ exactly wasn’t so clear, but anything in the world was an improvement on law.

Dan rolled over in bed as he woke up, keeping his eyes closed and grumbling in confusion as he felt into the empty space where Phil should’ve been. He fumbled blindly at the nightstand, straining to open his eyes at the bright display. It wasn’t the time that caught his eye as much as the day: February 14th. His heart seized at the roof of his mouth, and he tried to swallow it back down. 

A muffled noise through the door caught his attention, something reminiscent to pans clattering together. Dan rolled his eyes and laughed to himself; Phil knew he didn’t like surprises, but perhaps Dan would let this one slide. He pulled himself out of the warmth of the bed and moved as quietly as he could out of the bedroom, leaning against the wall at the entrance to the kitchen and watching in amusement as Phil failed at being inconspicuous. 

“Shit,” Phil muttered, reaching for the roll of paper towels next to the stovetop.

“You know I hate surprises,” Dan said, and he reveled in the way it made Phil jump. 

“ _ Dan! _ ” Phil exclaimed, clutching at his chest. “Oh my god, I could’ve burned myself!”

“What are you even doing?” Dan asked; he leaned off the wall and stepped closer, but Phil stopped him from moving any further or getting a better look at the scene that hid behind him.

“Trying to be romantic,” Phil held Dan still, mirroring every movement Dan made to keep the surprise an actual surprise.

“You’re ridiculous,” Dan grinned. He kept trying to catch a glimpse of whatever Phil was making, every move thwarted by Phil. “Why can’t I  _ see? _ ” he whined.

“Because this is actually a good surprise,” Phil reasoned.

Dan decided to let Phil have this and stopped trying to see around him. “How close is it to being done, then?”

“I was almost finished when you decided to scare the shit out of me while I was standing in front of hot metal.”

“Well how am I supposed to know that if it’s part of the surprise?” Dan teased.

“You’re not nice,” Phil frowned, crossing his arms.

“I believe your word of choice is ‘meanie,’” Dan crossed his arms back.

“My word of choice is disgruntled boyfriend trying to be nice for Valentine’s Day,” the sentence felt like a breath of cold air as it ran through Dan, but he tried his best to ignore the fluster.

“That’s at least,” Dan raised his hands and tapped along his fingertips, “nine words.”

“It’s  _ exactly _ nine words and I rest my case,” Phil tilted his chin up and turned back around to the stove. He looked over his shoulder. “Just wait on the sofa, yeah?”

“As you wish,” Dan huffed, leaving Phil in the kitchen.

“See? Now you get the reference,” Phil called from the kitchen. Dan nestled into his corner of the sofa and grabbed the remote, scrolling through shows to occupy his time. He heard porcelain clattered behind him and willed away the desire to turn around.

“Ta-da!” Phil sung, holding a plate in front of Dan. 

Dan looked down at the plate and furrowed his eyebrows. They were pancakes, that much was clear, but he wasn’t too sure on what they were supposed to  _ look _ like. He grabbed the rim of the plate and took it from Phil, watching as Phil sat down next to him. 

“They’re supposed to be hearts, but it’s apparently really hard to pour pancake batter in the shape of a heart,” Phil said; Dan almost wanted to cry.

“They’re… quaint,” Dan tried to give Phil the benefit of the doubt. It felt like a better alternative than letting himself turn into mush over an attempt at heart-shaped pancakes.

Phil frowned at his plate, and Dan wished he would’ve just let himself turn to mush. “This is really nice, Phil” He offered Phil a grin and was glad to get one in return. Neither of them had done this before, Dan reminded himself.

“Then I’m honored to have received the Dan seal of approval,” Phil mused.

“Well you’ve always had that,” Dan replied bashfully. He decided to waste no more time in speaking and took a fork out of Phil’s hand, making no attempt to stop the moan that climbed its way past the pancake in his mouth. 

Phil closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face, “It’s too early in the morning for you to be making those noises.”

“Should’ve made shittier pancakes, then,” Dan brought the fork back down to his plate and cut off another piece, this time holding the fork in front of Phil’s lips. “Try it if you don’t believe me.”

Phil rolled his eyes and took the bite, humming in surprise, “Oh those  _ are  _ good.”

“Did not think they would be?” Dan laughed.

“I just asked my mum for a recipe, but I didn’t think I’d actually do it right,” Phil admitted.

“These are literally like, the best pancakes I’ve ever had,” Dan said. “Even if they kinda look like alien ballsacks.”

Phil grimaced. “Don’t make me lose my appetite, I worked hard on these.”

“Then eat them, dummy,” Dan pushed at Phil’s plate with a smile.

The whole day was theirs to do nothing but stay on the sofa and eat pancakes and watch movies, and Dan could think of no other way he’d rather be spending his time.

Well, maybe a  _ few  _ ways he could be spending his time, but not right now. Right now, he just wanted to soak up the serenity of it all. The bigger things — the scarier, more intimate ones — would come later. There would come a time when Dan was ready to give every part of himself to Phil, and for once, Dan was willing to be patient.

They fell asleep together on the sofa and woke up to a phone ringing, the sound screaming at them where they lay wrapped into each other — not the best way to wake up from a nap on a Sunday afternoon. Dan squinted at Phil as he blindly fumbled at the coffee table for the phone, answering it without another thought. 

“Hello?” Phil croaked. Dan gave little effort in hiding a snicker. Phil shoved his face away, holding his hand over Dan’s mouth as he listened. His eyebrows furrowed and he brought the phone down to read its screen, eyes wide: “Shit.”

Dan removed himself from Phil’s touch and shifted closer, equally surprised as the ID read “Mum” on Dan’s phone. He took it quickly and sat up, distancing himself from Phil. Dan had forgotten about his parents; he didn’t even realize that was possible.

“Hello?” he answered, trying to simmer down the fear in his body.

“Who just answered your phone?” his mother asked, voice already wearing impatient and agitated.

“A law friend,” Dan shifted his eyes to Phil and grit his teeth, “We had a study group last night at his and everyone stayed over.”

“It’s nearly noon, dear,” she said. “Did you just wake up?”

Dan took a moment to consider how long ago they’d first woken up, but that wasn’t what mattered right now. “Everyone else already left. He’s gonna take me back to school after lunch.”

“Alright,” she said, not pressing any further. Dan’s shoulder’s dropped at the relief.

“Is there… Anything else?” Dan asked. He didn’t want to know whatever it was she called for.

“Your father wants you home this weekend,” she answered flatly.

“Why?”

“He just wants you  _ home _ , Daniel. Do you  _ always  _ have to question what we ask of you?” she accused with the aggression Dan didn’t miss.

“No, I’m sorry,” Dan mumbled, becoming pliant to his family again.

“Then we’ll see you this weekend.”

“Yeah, Mum. Bye,” Dan dropped his phone on the bed and fell back, rubbing his eyes with a groan. “They want me home this weekend.”

“Did she tell you why?” Phil asked.

“She never does. Never tells me anything,” Dan grumbled, hands now resting on his stomach. “I don’t wanna think about it right now.”

It was an invitation for distraction, and Phil accepted it. Dan wanted Phil to leave marks heavy enough that they’d still be there when he went back home, enough for his parents to ask where they came from and chew him out for it. He wanted to give them actual reason to be angry, and he wanted to be angry in return.

Phil bit a little too hard where Dan’s earlobe met his neck, and Dan faltered. The thought of being confronted about a mark easily terrified him, and he pushed Phil away. Phil sat back on his heels; Dan hated the look on his face.

“I’m worried,” he admitted quietly. “I have no idea what they want.”

“It doesn’t matter what they want,” Phil said, moving closer. Dan stiffened, making Phil fall back again.

“But I don’t know what they’re gonna do,” Dan looked down to the bedspread as he fiddled with the edges. “My entire life is under their roof. They have the power over me.” They were quiet for a moment, Dan concentrating on every thought he didn’t want to have.

“What if they didn’t anymore?” Phil asked, voice verging on the edge of an idea.

“What?” Dan pulled himself away from his thoughts.

“What if they didn’t have power over you anymore?”

This would end in tears, Dan was sure of it. He had wanted more than anything to leave his parents and never look back, but actually considering it instilled more terror in Dan than he ever thought could exist within himself. Leaving home —  _ actually  _ leaving home — that was big. Bigger than writing them off, bigger than living for himself. That was leaving everything he ever knew behind, and for good this time.

But he and Phil talked, and he cried, and they came up with a plan. Maybe his parents would appreciate that he had found someone to live with, as long as they never found out anything more than that. Less money for them to spend on room and board costs couldn’t have been a bad thing. Dan was sure it would be easy to convince them how this opportunity was in fact a  _ good _ thing. Something about encouraging him to experience more of the real world — get a job, meet people, finally settle into their ideal life for him.

No need to mention how it was all just a cover-up for the fact that Dan wasn’t their golden boy anymore. Truthfully, he never really had been in the first place.

Dan didn’t want to think too much about what would happen after that. What would happen when his parents finally realized what was really going on,  _ if _ they ever did. He prayed to whoever was listening that they didn’t, and that one day he’d be brave enough to tell them himself.


	28. ch. 28

Every touch from Phil for the rest of the week was ice on Dan’s skin, the worry leaving goosebumps raised all over him. Phil understood it, but Dan still wanted the comfort. It would probably help him loosen up a little bit, anyway. The constant tension in his shoulders couldn’t have been good for him. Asking for it was better, even if Dan couldn’t hide the desperate blush when he finally told Phil, “Touch me.” He was just glad Phil was careful enough not to leave marks, even more so knowing that one day, they wouldn’t have to be anymore.

Dan sat nervous in the passenger seat of Phil’s car.

He hated going home. Hated having to see his parents and hear them talk about his life like he wasn’t even a part of it. Little did they know this was the last time Dan would. Just a few more little residual things, and he would be free. 

That was the only easy part of any of this. 

Dan put his hand over Phil’s where it rested on the gear shift. He hoped Phil’s hatchback would be enough to hold the rest of his life.

He just wished things didn’t have to be so difficult, so  _ complicated _ .

Being Phil wasn’t complicated. At least, not in the same ways. It was a complicated he enjoyed being a part of, being trusted with. It felt nice to be let into someone else’s head and to allow someone else inside his own in return.

His parents would never know, and Dan didn’t want that to hurt as much as it did. A part of him wished he could share this discovery with them, but the rest of him was glad to have it at all.

The sun was half-set when they drove into Dan’s hometown. Dan imagined that if he were somebody else, little bits of his childhood would flash over everything they passed. The houses of kids he went to school with, void of any meaning to him; he was grateful to have Phil help make places mean something to him. The playground, Professor Lester’s lecture room, Phil’s apartment — coated in the kind of memories Dan never made at home, as if it ever even felt like that in the first place.

The thought was bittersweet in Dan’s mouth; he ran his thumb in tight ellipses over the back of Phil’s hand.

Dan thought of Phil seeing the house he grew up in, his two worlds colliding. A strange uneasy feeling settled in his stomach. He reminded himself of their plan, hoping it would will the feeling away.

Phil slowed, giving Dan time to look at things a little closer. His old street was illuminated by the orange-yellow of street lights and the little lanterns perched into the bricks of the houses. Empty and quiet and unfamiliar.

“That one,” Dan pointed, mouth dry as he spoke for the first time. “With the little blue car.” Phil mumbled a response and veered to the side, slowing more to a stop against the curb. Dan looked at the time on the dashboard. 6:48pm.

“They’re about to have dinner,” Dan said, remembering the old routines of his family.

“D’you wanna wait for a bit?” Phil asked. He’d moved his hand from between Dan’s and the gear shift at some point Dan didn’t notice, now on Dan’s arm where it rested on the center console.

Dan took a moment to breathe, looking to Phil for an answer, his face backlit by the streetlights and beautiful in a way Dan forgot it could be. He weighed the risk of taking Phil’s face in his hands to kiss it before doing so, his fingers framing Phil’s ears as he placed a soft kiss on Phil’s lips. Phil’s hand remained where it was on Dan’s forearm, the other now moving to Dan’s other arm as they held each other in place. He let their heads fall against each other, hands remaining and eyes having fallen closed.

“We can go in,” Dan decided quietly, careful not to disturb the peace that filled the car. “They almost always always make enough for leftovers.”

“Okay,” Phil replied, but he made no move to get out of the car. Dan figured Phil was letting him decide how he wanted them to do this. In all honesty, he didn’t want them to do this at all.

Dan kept their foreheads together and took in Phil’s air to ground himself. For all he knew, this would be the last time they’d get to share their space like this for a while, which was always too long if Dan could help it. He took one last breath before removing his hands, meeting Phil’s soft eyes with his own before opening his door. The click burst their little bubble, and Dan felt himself swallowed by the sound of crickets as he stepped onto the dark pavement. Phil went to the back and grabbed their backs, handing Dan’s off with a brush of their hands; Dan shivered at the touch, the last he would get for the next few days; hopefully, it was enough to savor.

He wasn’t sure whether or not to use his own key at the door. The memories of New Year’s made themselves known, Dan’s hand stilling in his pocket around the keychain. His parents hadn’t even called him for that, and he wished he hadn’t remembered it. Phil wrapped his knuckles on the door quickly and stepped back, their shoulders brushing. Dan savored that sensation, too, breath tight in his chest as they both stood and waited. His mother answered the door, which was far more preferred than his father. She kept her eyes on Dan, eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“Your father and I  _ just _ sat down for dinner,” she said, annoyed.

“Sorry, Mum,” he mumbled.

“And who’s this?” she nodded her head slightly at Phil.

“A friend from class,” Dan said, he focused on her nose, too scared to see her eyes. “He drove me.”

“Is he staying?”

“I figured that would be alright, just for the weekend,” Dan admitted sheepishly.

“And I’m supposed to feed both of you?” her patience was already wearing thin, as it so easily did when her and Dan spoke to each other.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Dan hated how she turned him into this, and he hated how Phil was seeing all of it.

His mother blew a heavy breath from her nose. “We’re having shepherd's pie,” she moved away from the door, leaving it ajar as Dan and Phil stood outside. Dan moved slowly into the house, Phil trailing not too close behind. She walked into the dining room and called back, “Drop your things off in your room and you two can join us.”

Dan led Phil to his old room quietly, trying to recall the state he left it in. Surely, Phil wouldn’t mind the mess, even if it embarrassed Dan for him to see it. He dropped his bags to the side of the doorway, stepping over to led Phil in.

“There’s an air mattress in the closet in the bathroom,” Dan said, as if Phil could do anything about it.

“You don’t want to…?” Phil trailed off, looking concerned.

“Sorry,” Dan said shyly. “They never open my door, but I don’t wanna take any chances.”

“Okay.”

Phil followed Dan back into the lounge and through it to the dining room. Dan’s parents had already started eating, no sounds other than silverware as it scraped on the ceramic of the plates. Someone had already made each of them a plate, most likely his mother.

“Thanks,” Dan said, pointed at no one in particular. He sat in his usual chair, nodding for Phil to sit in the only empty one left.

“So,” Dan’s father began. Dan jolted slightly, caught off-guard. He glanced to Phil’s plate as Phil moved the cheese away from the rest of the food on his plate. “I wanted to talk about New Year’s.”

Dan froze, accidentally catching the toe of Phil’s shoe with his own.  _ Of course he does _ , Dan thought.

“Care to explain?” Dan’s father said calmly. He was a man of few words, Dan knew, especially when he was aggravated.

But that was the thing; Dan didn’t know  _ how  _ to explain. How was he supposed to tell his parents that he left with no notice to go to Phil? There was no reason  _ other _ than Phil.

“Anything?” his father said, voice raising.  _ Please,  _ Dan begged,  _ not in front of Phil. _

“You don’t have  _ anything _ to say for yourself?” his father asked in the aggression Dan was glad to be leaving in due time.

“No, sir,” Dan mumbled, eyes down on his plate. He’d hardly touched his food.

“What you did, young man, was  _ reckless. Irresponsible.  _ I’d think I’d have raised you to know better than to be so stupid, Daniel.”

“You did, sir.”

“Did I? Well, you could’ve had me fooled,” his father was toning himself down for Phil’s sake, Dan could tell, even it it wasn’t by much. Dan was grateful either way.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“I’m sure you are,” Dan’s father scraped up the last of the food on his plate. Dan was surprised at how little either of his parents had to say about that night, but then again, they rarely had much to say that was anything other than the same repetitive jabs. They only cared about Dan leaving because he hadn’t told them. “And who’s the kid you brought along?” he pointed his fork to Phil. 

“A friend from class,” Dan said, the same he’d said to his mother.

“And  _ why _ is he here?” now his father’s patience was waning, too, and Dan knew that was far worse than anything his mother could muster.

“I didn’t get a chance to buy train tickets,” Dan lied. He took a sharp breath, deciding putting it off wasn’t going to make it any easier. “And I wanted to tell you I’m moving in with him and some other law students next year, so you guys don’t have to help me with apartment stuff.”

“Are you, now?” his mother asked, although it sounded far from a question and more like an amusement.

“Yeah…” Dan trailed off, “If that’s alright.”

“It’s your life, Daniel,” she said, finishing up her own plate. “Clearly, you’re old enough to be making all of your own decisions.”

“I  _ am _ an adult, Mum,” he said, approaching the edge of bravery.

“With the way  _ you’ve  _ been acting?” she jabbed, and it felt like the fork in her hand was pressing in one of the slots between his ribs; he tried to remember the word for it and knew either of them dropping New Year’s was too good to be true.

“Yes, Mum, I’m an adult,” he said calmly. “And sometimes adults make poor choices.”

“Not choices like that, Daniel,” she said. She took her and his father’s empty plates and stood, moving into the kitchen.  _ Intercostal space _ , he remembered, though it wasn’t doing him any good.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, meaning it even more.

“ _ Sorry _ would be giving us a better explanation,” his father said pointedly.

“Maybe I don’t have one,” Dan said in a quiet defiance. He could feel Phil staring at him but didn’t want to find out if he actually was.

“That’s not  _ good _ enough, Daniel!” his father fist hit the table, rattling Dan and Phil’s plates, and now Dan was scared. He wanted to apologize to Phil for dragging him into this; Phil didn’t deserve to be dragged into all of Dan’s mess.

“I don’t always owe you explanations for everything,” Dan said, a little louder, but nowhere near matching his father’s volume.

“You live under my roof, you follow my rules. Is that understood?” his father stood from the table, eclipsing the light fixture that hung above it. Dan was silent, and he repeated the question with a boom to his voice as he stressed the words.

“I’m not going to live under your roof anymore,” Dan looked up to his father, now feeling small again, but he wasn’t going to back down.

“Then you’re out of the house by tomorrow afternoon,” his father decided. “You have the rest of tonight and tomorrow morning to pack your shit and get the hell out of my house,” the swearing was rare from his father, and it hit Dan’s chest hard. Getting out was what he wanted, but… not like this. “Are we clear?” Dan couldn’t speak, couldn’t even  _ move _ to give any indication that he understood the words, loud and clear. His father leaned forward on the table. “Are. We. Clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Dan said quickly, trying to swallow down the thickness from his throat as he stood. The legs of his chair slid on the floor loudly, Phil moving cautiously to follow. He gave a small thank-you to Dan’s mother for dinner, yielding no response.

Dan allowed Phil to move past him into his room, slamming his door and falling back against it: “ _ Fuck! _ ” he breathed, face quivering and red as he sunk down it. “ _ Fuck, _ ” he said again, voice softer and more exasperated as he pressed his palms into his eye sockets. “Come here,” he said quietly.

“Are you not-”

“I don’t care,” Dan said, taking his hands away. His eyes stung. “Come here.”

“But don’t you-”

“I love you,” the words knocked the wind out of Dan’s own chest as he said them. The feeling had grown slowly, digging roots in Dan’s organs until it blossomed, and he wasn’t scared of it. He did, he really did love Phil, the realization like a rush of blood to the head. He loved the ridiculous ideas Phil turned into short films and how effortlessly he was able to pull every weight out of Dan’s body and how he made pancakes that weren’t shaped like hearts but still tasted like love. 

Dan took a deep breath, an attempt to steady himself: “I do, I swear to god and on my parents’ graves I do.” He waited for Phil to say it back and felt his cheeks grow heavier as the silence grew longer. “ _ Please, _ ” he begged in a broken whisper, humiliation threatening to take over, “Say something,  _ anything. _ ”

“I love you, too,” Phil said finally, and Dan let out breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding, “but what about your-”

“I literally do not giving a flying fucking  _ shit _ anymore, Phil! Come here and hold me and let me hold you and tell me everything’s gonna be fine because right now it’s  _ not fucking fine _ !” Dan shouted, truly no longer caring what his parents thought of him right now. In this moment, in every moment for the rest of his life, he wanted nothing more than Phil.

“Okay,” Phil said, pulling Dan from the door and into his chest.

Dan fell into the material of Phil’s shirt, heaving “I love yous” and “I’m sorrys” into Phil’s chest. Only one was meant for Phil, but Dan wasn’t sure if the other was for his parents or himself.


	29. ch. 29

His bed was more uncomfortable than he remembered it being, digging into him at all angles. Dan couldn’t sleep, eventually moving to join Phil on the air mattress next to his bed. Phil didn’t stir, but Dan moved himself as close as he could next to him. Even then, sleep was hard to come by. The days of his ears being filled with static were hopefully long gone, but the new fears occupying his head weren’t any better.

Things weren’t supposed to happen like this. Moving out and being kicked out were worlds away from each other, even if they had the same end result. Just something about knowing that his parents really didn’t want him there anymore — as if he were any better for not wanting to be there either.

But Dan was leaving, for good this time, with no promise that coming back was an option.

Dan stayed up until sunlight started painting itself on his bedroom walls, cascading over the things he would take with him and the things he would leave behind. He rolled onto his back, watching the light grow brighter as he waited for Phil to wake up; he didn’t want to do this alone.

Phil rolled to face the center of the bed, stretching his shoulders as he woke. “When did you get there?” he asked, voice soft and groggy.

“Middle of the night,” Dan answered similarly. “I haven’t slept.”

Phil’s eyes widened slightly: “You’ve been up  _ all  _ night?”

Dan nodded once, curling himself into Phil for the touch he missed last night. Phil accepted it, letting Dan settle into the feeling. For now, Dan didn’t want to think about what he had to do — what  _ they  _ had to do. For now, he just wanted to lay here with a boy who made him happy without the worry of his parents’ disappointments looming over him. Two boys to whom the world owed nothing and who owed nothing to the world.

Reality would set in soon enough, Dan knew, and he would have to deal with everything he would be leaving behind. Even worse was realizing just how little he actually was.

“I’ve got some collapsed boxes under my bed that we can use,” he said quietly. “Just have to tape the bottoms back together. They’re probably gonna want me gone by noon.”

“What time is it now?” Phil yawned.

“Early,” Dan said. “Really don’t wanna know, to be honest.”

“Are they home?”

“My dad’s not, but I think my mum is,” Dan began worrying his teeth along his bottom lip, glancing to his closed door. “Just wanna get this over with.”

“How long d’you think it’s gonna take?”

Dan thought for a moment. “Not too long. I don’t have that much to take — well, that much I  _ want _ to take. Just like, clothes and stuff.”

“Okay, we can do clothes and stuff,” Phil hummed. 

Dan kissed his unbrushed grin and grimaced slightly at the taste of morning breath, now aware of his own mouth. He scrunched his nose, “Think we should brush our teeth first.”

“And put on some real people clothes.” Phil added, stealing a kiss of his own at the corner of Dan’s mouth.

“Whatever you say,” Dan rolled his eyes, struggling to will himself away from Phil. He ended up peeling himself from the mattress eventually, tugging off the shirt and pajama bottoms he’d slept in and throwing them onto his actual bed. Phil tossed him another shirt and a pair of jeans from his suitcase as he knelt at his own, looking for a change of clothes; Dan knew they were both just prolonging the hard part. Brushing his teeth felt like the hardest thing he’d ever done.

He moved slowly, pulling out boxes and passing them to Phil for reassembly. If Phil noticed, he knew better than to bring any attention to it.

There was no going back after this. Once the final box was packed, home would be no more than an empty shell, the way hermit crabs grow out of their own in search for bigger and better places. He looked to Phil, who had been making progress in emptying out the last of the things in Dan’s closet; the feeling relocated itself in the way his stomach still fluttered with these glances.

Dan had never seen his room so barren before. Bare mattress, empty desk, blank walls — devoid of any signs that he had ever existed there at all. 

And he would never exist there again.

He wondered what would become of his old walls after he was gone. Maybe his dad would turn it into an office, or his mum would turn it into a craft room. They’d get more use out of it that Dan ever offered them.

Dan watched his toes on the stairs as he moved down them, a box cradled between his arms; Phil followed close behind with another box. Every step removed more and more of himself from the places he’d known the longest. The longest, but never the best. 

His mother sat quietly at the kitchen table, reading glasses on and a mug next to her hands as she read a book. He remembered seeing her like that when he was younger and asking her if he could play outside with the other kids in the neighborhood. Their giggly voices echoed in the background of her voice as she always told him no. The memory made Dan tighten his grip on the cardboard, but it made leaving hurt less.

It was surreal for Dan to see all his life so easily stored away into boxes, slotting into place in the back of Phil’s hatchback.

“D’you wanna double-check before you leave?” Phil asked, pulling the back down with a thick slam. Dan looked to the front door, shoulders drawing up as he breathed. “I can start the car and wait for you,” Phil offered. Dan nodded, waiting for Phil to make his way around to the driver’s side before going back inside the house.

It stung a little more when his mother didn’t look up when he entered. Dan moved back up the stairs and into the empty room, disenchanted by the life he could've had here. He ran through imaginary checklists of the intangible things he would leave behind, trying to find any of their physical manifests. His eyes darted to his mattress. 

Dan walked to the front edge and lifted it from the box spring. The motion send a few stray sheets of paper out from the space and onto the floor. He quickly scooped up what remained on the box spring and let the mattress fall with a crooked thud before gathering the loose ones from around the bed. Words he’d forgotten he’d even written, all kept hidden away where he slept. His chest felt a little warmer now, a forlorn grin on his face as he glanced through his messy words. 

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and holding the papers tight to his chest; Dan was ready now.

Dan looked to the window on the other side of his room. Phil was waiting for him right below it —  _ home _ was waiting for him right below it — and Dan was tired of waiting for things to happen to him first. He watched the room turn from yellow to grey for the last time, closing the door behind him and counting the steps on the way down. 15, the same as they had always been, but he had to make sure; he’d never be able to count them again.

His mother was still sitting with her mug and book, no mind at all paid to Dan. He looked a little closer at the mug and noticed the streaks of glossy paint on it. An old art project from primary school and a reminder that parts of him would still linger long after he was gone.

“Bye, Mum,” Dan said softly. She looked up from her book, reading glasses perched halfway down her nose, and sat the mug down. Dan could see the edges of his name painted in red on the handle. He wanted her to say something, although he wasn’t sure what he wanted to hear. She may have been the lesser of two evils, but sometimes her disapproval hurt more than his father’s ever could.

His mother opened her mouth to speak, making Dan decide he didn’t want to hear the words that might come out. “Tell Dad I’m sorry,” he said quickly, moving closer to the front door. “I love you,” the front door slammed to a close, letting his words fall in the house behind him. 

Phil was watching him from the driveway with careful eyes, and they followed Dan as he put the papers in the floor of the back seat and came around to the passenger side. Phil didn’t ask about the papers; Dan would tell him when he was ready, and that they both knew. Dan sunk down into his seat, putting his feet in front of him on the glovebox. He saw Phil shifting gears from the corner of his eye and felt the car start to move, keeping his stare focused on how his shoelaces fell across his ankles.

“Are you gonna miss it?” Phil asked, stretching the distance between the two of them and the house as he drove.

Dan breathed deeply through his nose and let it out with a sigh, “I’ll miss what it could’ve been.” Dan turned his head to his window,  _ but I have a new place to make a home in. _

They’d be back in Manchester by noon in time to have lunch, but Dan didn’t know if he’d be able to muster up an appetite by then, or even by dinner. The good feelings would outweigh the bad feelings in due time, but the bad still sat heavy on his chest. Phil put on some music, but Dan wasn’t so keen on letting those words swallow him quite yet.

“All I’ve ever wanted to do is leave,” Dan began, “but wanting it and actually  _ doing _ it feel so different from each other.”

“Maybe it just feels weird right now, yeah?” Phil turned down the radio and looked over to Dan before returning to the road.

“Yeah,” Dan mumbled. “Just weird.”

“Have you thought about what you wanna do for lunch once we get back?” Phil always knew when Dan needed to get his mind off of a subject.

“Not really,” Dan said, “dunno if I’m gonna be hungry.”

“We can just play it by ear, then,” Phil suggested, “Or just find something at the flat? Go ahead and get all this stuff unpacked.”

“Yeah,” Dan wanted to already be back at the flat with Phil in bed, in their own little world where none of this ever had to happen, where all that ever mattered was just the two of them.

But he didn’t have to worry about his parents anymore. He didn’t have to worry about their disapproval or their disappointment or their anything else. Things only mattered now if they mattered to Dan, and the thought pulled some of the weight out of him. Dan sat back up in his seat and turned up the radio again, contently letting the words swallow him this time around.


	30. ch. 30

They lugged all of Dan’s boxes into what used to be his room in the flat, once again returning it to the storage room. Breathing was coming a bit easier knowing that the hard part was over now, but that didn’t stop a new burden from building a home in his ribcage. He checked the time. 1:43pm. Phil stood in the doorway, hand leaning on the frame as he caught his breath. Dan looked to him and then away, unsure where to let his eyes fall. Anxiety was crawling its way slowly up Dan’s throat, leaking through his veins and into his fingertips.

“You didn’t just say it back because of what happened before it, right?” Dan asked, with nothing to even spur the question other than his own fear. He wasn’t sure what kind of answer he wanted, or what kind he was expecting.

Phil looked up at him, looking almost hurt by the accusation, “Of course not.”

Relief poured out of Dan’s skin as the fear deflated. “So you really did- really  _ do _ mean it?”

“I almost said it sooner, but I chickened out,” Phil admitted; he stood up straight but stayed in the the doorway; Dan could feel his eyes studying him.

“Of course you did,” Dan grinned stupidly, looking up at Phil and taking a moment to just be thankful he’s there. “We’re both kinda bad at this, aren’t we?”

“But we can get better at it together, right?”

“Yeah,” Dan nodded, “we can.”

“Good,” Phil said, letting the word settle before asking, “D’you wanna watch something in the lounge?”

“Yeah, I’m kinda tired of looking at cardboard,” Dan chuckled.

“Fair enough,” Phil said. He stayed in the doorway, though, and Dan figured he was waiting for him. He climbed off the bed and joined Phil, leading them into the lounge.

“Any suggestions?” Phil asked, occupying Dan’s corner of the sofa but with his arms held wide and a pillow over his lap; Dan inferred the invitation and settled into them with a content hum, laying down on the pillow and holding one of Phil’s arms over his chest. Phil moved the other to Dan’s hair, fumbling at the strands to occupy it.

“Something I don’t have to pay attention to,” Dan said, the undertone not really suggestive, but calm. He wanted something peaceful and mindless, something that wouldn’t distract him to much from just being with Phil.

“ _ Friends _ ?” Phil asked, and Dan nodded against the pillow, hoping Phil would feel the movement; he did, clicking through menus and selecting the title.

Soon enough, they would have to go to bed, and then go to school in the morning, but Dan didn’t want to worry about any of that. He trained his focus to Phil’s fingers as they absently played with his hair, closing his eyes to the sensation. Another “I love you” sat behind his teeth, but he held it there, rolling it around in his mouth and breaking it down piece by piece.  _ I, Daniel James Howell, love you, Philip Michael Lester. I absolutely and wholeheartedly would devote my entire life to you. All you have to do is ask. Just say the words, and everything I am — everything I ever have been and ever will be — is yours. _

Dan meant it all, every single syllable that poured out like cliche. The sincerity made his teeth ache. Maybe Dan would write something about it, just to tuck the thought away as something more tangible if he ever wanted it. If he ever wanted to give the thought to Phil.

The feeling swelled out of his chest and towered over him, existing not just beside him, but within him; Dan wondered how things that felt so much bigger than himself could still reside so comfortably in him. It was big and scary and unfamiliar, and it was so overwhelmingly beautiful. He would gladly surrender to the feeling if it meant he could bask in it forever.

Home,  _ this _ was home, and Dan was sure of it now more than ever. This was where Dan didn’t have to prove himself to a single soul, where he could allow himself the simple pleasures of someone running their fingers through his hair and not have to worry about his grades or his parents or anything that ever threatened to make him feel unworthy.

It started just last year, just a few months ago, but it seemed so much longer than that. Then again, maybe Dan had always been a little hasty.

“Dan?” Phil asked, his thighs moving Dan’s head to get his attention.

“Hm?” Dan hummed.

“I asked what you wanted to do for dinner and you didn’t respond. You alright?”

“Just happy.”

“Just happy?”

“Just happy,” Dan repeated, and he was, he really was. He shifted off his side and onto his back, looking up at Phil. “Takeaway?”

Phil grinned as he looked down at Dan, shaking his head in amusement. “I wonder what goes on in that funny little head of yours sometimes.”

“Stuff,” Dan smirked.

“You’re not like, planning to murder me in my sleep or anything, right? At least give me hints so I can put up a good fight,” Phil joked; it was so easy for Dan to love all of him.

Dan spoke through a smile, “Top ten anime betrayals.”

“My ghost will never let you hear the end of it.”

“Your ghost is, at  _ worst _ , a minor inconvenience.”

“I’ll leave all the cupboard doors open, and then open them again every time you close them,” Phil threatened, and Dan groaned with a shudder.

“God, I’d have to call an exorcist.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” Phil leaned closer to Dan’s face, and Dan didn’t have to admit it was the truth. He looked up at Phil’s face — that wonderful,  _ beautiful _ face — and wondered how he was so lucky. “So, takeaway for dinner?”

Dan nodded again, a dopey and childlike grin on his face. “And then more  _ Friends _ then bed.”

“Whatever you say,” Phil rolled his eyes and pulled himself out from under Dan’s head, letting Dan fall onto the warm cushions. Dan closed his eyes and listened to Phil’s voice as he made the call, growing fainter and louder as he paced; phone calls made him nervous, and Dan couldn’t have been more endeared by the fact. He peaked an eye open, catching Phil out of the corner, and smiled to himself.

This was all  _ his _ . The stupid jokes and the late nights and the marks each left on the other’s skin but neither bothered to hide. All of the first he’d given to Phil and the ones he still had left to give. The fuzz and the static and absolutely everything else in between.

Phil ended the phone call and Dan lifted his head, letting Phil reoccupy the space on the sofa before settling back down in his lap. Phil’s hand returned to playing at Dan’s hair, and Dan let himself melt into it; he could do that around Phil. He could melt and crumble and fall apart, and Phil would help him come back together every single time.

“Hey, Phil?” Dan humbled.

“Hm?”

“Love you,” Dan said quietly, absently.

“Love you, too,” Phil said back, and Dan was so happy to hear the grin on his lips —  _ Phil’s _ lips, that made Dan laugh and smile and had the capacity to help him made sense of all the mess in his head, lips that he could kiss whenever he wanted.

He wanted to now. And he never wanted to stop.

And he didn’t mind how red their faces would be when they answered the door.


	31. epilogue

It was good to finally not feel so alone in this, to  _ be _ so alone in this. Maybe it was a small support system, but Dan figured it was better than not having one at all. He had Phil, and Phil had him, and that feeling that had sat in Dan’s stomach for so long had been replaced by something hopeful.

And it had definitely been a long semester. Dan couldn’t believe the duality of time as it passed, too fast and too slow for his liking as the last week of the school year loomed over his head. His first year of university was over, and Phil was about to  _ graduate _ . Seven months felt like forever to know someone, but then Dan remembered all the people who spent entire  _ lifetimes  _ with each other; he hoped he and Phil could be the lucky ones.

Both were too busy with their own obligations to their classes to do much other than sleep — or occasionally allow themselves just a few minutes in Phil’s car to reacquaint themselves with each other’s touch — but even that wasn’t always a guarantee. Dan couldn’t even count on his fingers how many nights Phil had stayed up after Dan had already gone to bed, working on his final project. Normally, Phil would ask for Dan’s opinions whatever projects he was working on, but this one was shrouded in a new secrecy. It took more effort from Dan than he’d like to admit to keep himself from snooping.

“Am I  _ ever  _ gonna get to see whatever it is you’ve been working on all month?” Dan asked, hanging upside down off the front of their bed. Phil was on his laptop, leaning back against the headboard.

“Eventually,” Phil replied, the same way he always did whenever Dan asked. “Promise.”

Dan groaned, pulling himself back upright on the bed. “And what am I supposed to do until then? Sit here and look pretty?”

“Isn’t that what you always do?”

“Not the point, Philip,” Dan huffed.

“You’ll see it when it’s ready,” Phil looked up from his screen, face lit light blue, “Promise.”

Patience was never a virtue of Dan’s, but he did it for Phil.

It was still only Sunday night. Still another three days left. Then it would be summer break, Dan would finally get to see the video Phil was making, and they would have more time to themselves than either of them knew what to do with.

And Dan would finally get to change his major — to English Literature, hopefully. That was nowhere near his radar this time last year, but neither were a lot of the other good things in his life. Dan thought of all the ways in which he’d become complicated. He felt strange thinking about how much had changed since then, but it was a good strange. This time last year, Dan didn’t even realize just how much he was missing in people like Phil. So much good in the world that was still left to be seen.

Dan was at least grateful he didn’t have to worry about moving anything out of his old dorm, nor did he have to worry about moving anything into another dorm or apartment. Didn’t even have to go home to his parents anymore. If Dan didn’t like something, it didn’t matter. Things were better that way.

Waiting until Wednesday might kill him, though.

He missed Phil, even when they were right next to each other. Dan felt like they were missing so much of each other’s lives with this project Phil had been working on. He missed watching their shows together, spending their free time doing nothing but enjoying the comfort each other offered.

The routine would resume soon enough, Dan reminded himself. 

Monday and Tuesday came and went in the form of revision and brief moments of affectionate contact. Dan woke up Wednesday to his body full of a nervous, knowing energy. He tapped his pen against his desk all day, waiting to be dismissed to Phil. The shuffle of other students gathering their things was his cue to leave, the first one out the door.

Phil stood leaning against one of the columns, the same way he always did. From now until August, they fully belonged to each other, and Dan wasn’t in the business of denying himself every opportunity to take advantage of that fact. He quickly had his arms over Phil’s shoulders, feet raising him to the tips of his toes. He acquainted himself with the scent of Phil’s neck. Phil tensed, bracing himself against the column and chuckling.

“Don’t you maybe wanna wait until we get home?” he asked smugly.

“I missed you,” the sound was muffled into the junction of Phil’s collar bone.

“We live together,” Phil reasoned. He moved away from the column and put Dan back down flat on his feet.

“I feel like we haven’t seen each other in ages,” Dan finally pulled away but left his arms perched over Phil’s shoulders.

“You’re gonna love the video I made,” Phil smiled.

“I better with all your attention it stole from me,” Dan was learning not to be so bashful with the way he felt about things. Even if he was mostly joking.

They walked together with a nervous step, though Dan was sure for different reasons; at least he knew where Phil’s came from. His, on the other hand, was less explained. Maybe all of Phil’s nerves were rubbing off onto him, or something like that. 

No need to question things too much when Phil was letting Dan hold his hand as they walked across campus. Not that it was ever really a secret here in the first place, but it was never something they consciously shared outside of themselves. Dan was discovering just how nice it felt to be open. Just how nice it felt to be a reckless and stupid kid, feel the wind as it bit at his teeth when he laughed. Always making up for lost time.

Dan thumped into the passenger seat of Phil’s car, the feeling of summer making his body light. It killed him not to reach further across the center console than where their elbows touched.

“This better be Oscar-material if I had to wait this long to see it,” Dan complained, “while hardly  _ ever _ getting to see you.”

“Not my fault you’re impatient and clingy,” Phil remarked with a smirk.

“As if you could ever live without me,” Dan threw his head to Phil’s shoulder dramatically, his neck straining to look at Phil upside-down. Phil glanced over a few times, each one longer than the last.

“You need to stop doing that,” Phil said, nudging Dan off his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Dan said with a chuckle. He shifted back into his seat but kept their elbows together. Anything to get them home faster.

Dan wanted to ask Phil questions about the film, but he didn’t want to spoil the surprise more. He knew if he pestered Phil about it enough, Phil would give in. So Dan instead patiently in the passenger seat, trying his absolute hardest to contain his own nervous excitement.

Phil, however, seemed to be taking his time, driving the long way home even though traffic wasn’t bad on their normal route this time of day. Dan wondered why he was prolonging it, but maybe he had his own fears, too.

Didn’t Phil know it was impossible for Dan to ever dislike anything he made? Didn’t he know how ready Dan was to pour out praises like they were the only words Dan could speak?

It was impossible for Dan to fathom a universe where he didn’t anything but love Phil. He didn’t know how he managed before, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to manage an after — if the circumstances ever became as such.

They wouldn’t, Dan reassured himself, moving his attention elsewhere. This time, the freckles on Phil’s arm where it rested next to his own. He wondered how many more Phil would get over the summer, how warm and sun-kissed his skin would become, every single inch of it free for Dan to touch.

“Did I tell you Varner set me up at an internship with the BBC?” Phil asked, turning his head to Dan but eyes focused on the road before them.

“No?” Dan replied, excitement peaking in his voice. 

“Yeah, apparently he only gives the opportunity to like two or three kids a year, so it’s me and this guy Ian.”

The new name pulled uncomfortably at Dan’s stomach, but he shooed the feeling away, knowing he was just being silly; he didn’t have to worry about Phil.”That’s really cool, Phil,” he smiled, placing his hand over Phil’s forearm.

“Yeah, um,” Phil trailed off, and Dan grew a little nervous, “we might be moving to London.”

Dan’s eyes grew wide. “ _ We?  _ As in  _ us? _ ”

“If you want,” Phil offered. “I don't have to take it. We can stay here in Manchester.”

“No, fuck off,” Dan laughed. “Of course you’re taking it.”

“But your English stuff! You just got that all figured out, Dan, I’m not gonna take that away from you,” Phil argued, and he wasn’t wrong. But the more Dan sat here thinking about it, thinking about his future —  _ their _ future, together — the more he realized just how little he wanted to spend the next two years of it in school. Academia hadn’t done him any real favors for the past 18 years of his life, so what good would it do after? Maybe one day, he’d want to go back, but for now, he would much rather let Phil pursue his own passions first. Phil knew what he wanted to do; Dan was still figuring things out, and he still had time to do so.

“I’m not going to if you don’t want me to,” Phil reiterated.

“I  _ want  _ you to, Phil!” Dan shouted, voice a little too loud in the car. “I’m still trying to sort my life out, but this  _ is _ your life. This is what you  _ want _ to do, what you’ve always wanted to do. I’m not just gonna let you throw that away for me and something that isn’t even a surefire thing.” He sat back in his seat, a dreamy grin on his face. “We’re moving to London,” he said decisively.

“We’re moving to London,” Phil repeated, knowing he wouldn’t win this argument. 

They let the words settle in the air between them before turning to each other and laughing.

Moving to London. Crazy, stupid fun.

The car pulled to a stop, and Dan suddenly remembered what Phil had in store for him. Just a few feet away from their flat, from  _ home _ , from their summer and their future and everything else the universe had in store for them. He didn’t know all the details, but he knew they would all work themselves out eventually; with Phil around, they always did.

Phil let them into the flat, Dan eagerly making camp on the sofa. Phil sat his bags down at the door and sat down next to Dan, holding his arms open and letting Dan fall into them. He clicked through menus on the TV, pulling up his channel. Dan felt the hairs all over his body stand on end, and he was sure Phil must’ve been in a similar state. The thumbnail was just black, but the title was simply “Less Than Three,” and Dan squinted as he tried to figure out what it meant. Phil took a deep breath next to him before clicking on the video.

Dan wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see, but his old face — his seven-months-ago face — certainly wasn’t at the top of his list. The day came running back to him, their first day ever, messing around in Professor Lester’s lecture room and feeling what Dan could only call a precursor to love. It reminded him of just how different things were then, how things changed. He was glad to have that part of himself behind him and come out on top of all the rubble. Glad to have come out with Phil in tow.

There were more little clips of him, of them — some Dan knew existed, some he didn’t. Little moments of them, captured and catalogued together into a video scrapbook. He could heard bits of their voices mixing in with the music, just as cheesy and cliche and so perfectly fitting as the video. The audio began to fade only for a new sound to play, this time, just Dan’s voice, speaking as if through a telephone.

His poem. That he’d written and read for what seemed like forever ago. Dan had forgotten Phil asked to record it. His words and their relationship, immortalized and publicized but still unable to capture even a  _ fraction  _ of the sheer adoration they had for each other.

Dan wanted to feel stupid for the tears that began to fall down his cheeks, but he didn’t.

How could he feel stupid when he was so unbelievably  _ happy _ ? Happy and lucky and just so goddamn grateful for this life he had here with Phil.

The end cards began to roll as Dan’s voice faded back out, white text over the black screen: 

_ “To Dan, <3.” _


End file.
